


Lilies In The Garden

by TheIntelligentHufflepuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Lily Evans Potter, Feminist Themes, First War with Voldemort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Muggle-born Pride, Mystery, No Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), Protective Remus Lupin, Protective Sirius Black, Second War with Voldemort, canon-compliant political activism, men drinking their respect women juice, there are a lot of men in this I will admit but there WILL be lots of female character development, wolfstar now somewhat higher key
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 42,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23161831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIntelligentHufflepuff/pseuds/TheIntelligentHufflepuff
Summary: The Dark Lord may have disappeared but the war was never over. And the Potters never needed a prophecy to be heroes.ORA story of solidarity in a climate of extremism, living in the midst of grief, grappling with legacy, and loving above all.As much First War as Second. Lily lives but also dies.AU.
Relationships: Alice Longbottom & Lily Evans Potter, Harry Potter & Lily Evans Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 72
Kudos: 62





	1. Planting Seeds in a Garden That You Never See

**Author's Note:**

> You don't even wanna KNOW how long it took me to come up with that summary. 
> 
> I've been on a deep-dive back into my obsession over certain Harry Potter characters lately (because, as my friend said, you'll never be over Harry Potter) and this came to mind. Fair warning, I haven't finished writing this so updates may be sporadic. I just really wanted a dose of this specific characterisation and then it developed a plot and now here we are. Basically a re-write of certain elements of cannon with lots of embellishment and more attention to developing the female characters and making it a fight not about Voldemort per se, but the extremism and prejudice he's the figurehead of. 
> 
> Rating may go up, but not for sex

“Harry.” Lily said in the consciously calm voice she always used when she was about to go ballistic.    
  


Harry groaned. Hermione had  _ said  _ it was a bad idea to use the good linens as a goal, but he and Ron had  _ really  _ wanted to play muggle football last week and it wasn’t exactly Harry’s fault that adults insisted on making bedsheets out of materials that weren’t stain-proof...He set his fork down and looked up, waiting for his sentence. 

But his mother wasn’t meeting his gaze. Instead, her own fork was frozen halfway through the air, the alert green eyes Harry shared with her fixed on the slither of wrist exposed by her woolly jumper. She was pale. 

“Mum?” Harry questioned, tensing. 

At last, Lily looked up. But she didn’t relax. 

“Harry,” she said again, the same simmering something in her words “Come here.” 

He stood and padded over to her, stomach knotting even tighter as his mum, still sat on her high wooden dining chair, enveloped him in a tight hug. Her arms were shaking. 

“I’ve been poisoned.” 

Harry recoiled; Lily held him in place. A warm hand settled against the back of his head, ruffling his hair slightly as it went. 

Harry didn’t understand. Lily was director of a Ministry potions lab, besides the one-woman operation she ran at home - surely she knew what to do in the event of a contamination, and surely that  _ didn’t  _ involve having a cuddle. 

“Mum what are you doing? Don’t you need to get an-” 

“There’s no antidote, Harry.”

_ No anti-  _

Lily pulled back, forcing Harry to look her in the eye and ploughing on before Harry even had a chance to parse the words “If I’m right about why it’s happened, that’s soon going to be the least of your worries.” 

“Least of my-  _ Mum _ , what’s going on? You’re - You think you’re -You’re…” 

“Breathe, Harry.” Lily instructed, standing up herself to put some distance between them even as she held onto his hands. 

“ _ Dying? _ ” 

“Soon, love. I’m sorry.” 

“How soon?” Harry choked. Tears burnt like acid in his eyes, blurring his view of his mother. He blinked them away. He didn’t have  _ time _ , dammit. 

“A few hours.” 

_ They  _ didn’t have time. 

“I can’t- this can’t- This isn’t happening!” he burst, jerking away. Lily tipped forwards in his sudden absence, and his heart nearly cracked. 

But Lily didn’t fall. Instead, she caught his flailing arms and told him “ _ Later _ .” 

Harry started; he was fifteen but he wasn’t quite used to being talked to like an adult yet. Somehow, that realisation drained his broiling emotions clean away. 

Maybe it was shock. 

Wordlessly, Harry watched his mother watching him. 

Lily let go of his forearms and leant back against the table. 

After what seemed like an eon, she spoke. 

“I told you that your dad died helping to defeat Voldemort in the Wizarding War.” 

Harry nodded. The soft evening light filtering in from the kitchen window lit up the frizzled edges of Lily’s hair like golden sugar, but there was nothing sweet about the tightness around her eyes.

“I told you that Voldemort was gone for good, and that he would never come back.” 

Harry nodded again. 

“I think I lied to you.” 

Harry paled. On the far wall a picture of his dad looked on in stony silence.

When Harry spoke again he had the strange sense that he was speaking for two. 

“What.” 

It wasn’t a question. 

Lily winced. Harry thought it might have been from regret- but it could just as well have been from pain. He didn’t fail to notice the way her fingers clenched against the floral tablecloth.

“I promise you I didn’t do it on purpose. There was always a chance that he was gone for good, and it was easy to believe that; but at the same time there was always a chance that he wasn’t quite dead, or that his followers would return. This-” 

“Says they have.” Harry finished dully. 

It was Lily’s turn to nod. Deftly, she began to roll up her sleeve. Then she stopped, eyed Harry appraisingly, pursed her lips, and carried on. 

Harry wished she hadn’t. Lily’s skin, usually so peachy, had turned yellowish and sallow. Even worse, it looked almost as if her normal freckles had mutated, darkening, blotching over her skin in dull black oil spills that oozed into each other even as Harry watched. Unconsciously, he recoiled. 

Lily jerked her sleeve down. 

“Don’t worry, it’s fast-acting but it isn’t contagious. And-” Lily hesitated again. 

“Tell me.” 

To Harry’s horror, Lily’s lower lip wobbled. But she choked it down. 

“It only effects muggle-borns.” 

For a second, the world whited out. Then Harry was back, and practically quivering in rage. 

“I’m going to kill them.” 

“No.” 

“Bu-” 

Lily cut him off again, more sternly this time “ _ No.  _ Harry James Potter, I did  _ not  _ show you that to rile you up for revenge. I showed you so you know you have to take this seriously. You will be prepared, Harry, and you will do what you can to keep yourself and others safe if and when this situation escalates. But you will  _ not  _ allow yourself to become a soldier. Not until you genuinely, completely, have  _ no other choice _ . And if the adults around you do their job right, that will never happen.” 

“They obviously didn’t do their job right last time.” Harry whispered, a little scared. 

Lily swallowed hard, face spasming. She looked a little bit of everything for a moment; then she stared at their sideboard, populated with neatly arranged relics from Harry and his parents’ Hogwarts days, and she just looked sad. 

“We tried, Harry. I-” 

Lily froze, stiff as a board. A small, pained whistle crawled its way out of her teeth. 

“Mum?!?” Harry cried, grabbing at her, too panicked to hate the way he sounded like a child. 

Thankfully, Lily’s muscles relaxed. But she didn’t look at ease. 

Wordlessly, she pulled Harry in to another hug. He inhaled, and Lily did too. He, trying desperately to pick out her perfume from the sulphurous smell she brought home from work, she...steadying herself, if the wetness against Harry’s neck was anything to go by.

Every bit of Harry wanted to freeze the moment for days, years - however long it took for him to be ready. 

But he reckoned he would never be ready to see his mum die. 

It made him cling tighter. 

“It’s time for you to go, Harry.” Lily rasped, even though she herself didn't release him. 

“I don’t want to.” Harry squeaked, throat swelling with an oncoming sob. 

Lily shook her head, hair tickling Harry’s jaw. 

“Neither do I, love. But you can’t watch this. I,” she corrected herself “Can’t let you watch this.”

“Mum-” 

“ _ Please _ ,  _ Harry _ .” 

“Okay.” Harry nodded, too fast. He felt like he was falling off a cliff, like he was about to get run over by a train, like his insides were being yanked out by an angry hippogriff. 

He stepped back. 

Lily’s arms dropped, lead weights, to her sides. 

Voice nearly shaking into non-existence, Lily asked “Have you got your wand?” 

Harry nodded; he didn’t think he could open his mouth to speak. 

“Okay.” Lily breathed, screwing her eyes shut for two long seconds. 

When she spoke again, Harry couldn’t help but feel oddly proud: she sounded strong, and kind, and not scared at all. 

And Harry listened. 

“I love you, Harry. Your dad does too; and we’ll both be up there together, looking down on you. I’ll make sure of that. So don’t you worry about me. And tell your uncles the same thing. Now keep your head up, okay? No matter how hard it gets, don’t give the darkness what it wants. Don’t become the kind of man you don’t want to be. And try to stay alive.” 

“Okay.” Harry whispered “ And I love you, too.” 

Then that was it. Trembling, on the verge of vomiting himself inside out, he just walked to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of floo powder and, with one last look at his mother’s reassuring, watery smile, he was gone. 


	2. Be My Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't believe I'm actively writing a Harry Potter fanfiction in 2020. But it's a fun world to play with, and I'm enjoying the nostalgia of it.

It was raining the day the Potters first told Sirius that Lily was pregnant, then asked him to be their child’s godfather. 

Sirius remembered it was raining because they’d met in a muggle cafe, the no-frills, cuppa-for-the-night-shift kind, and Lily kept glancing at him in irritation because the plastic seat was squeaking against his leather trousers. He hadn’t cared about Lily’s irritation, though. He’d been preoccupied with concerns about more sinister things. And he couldn’t work out why James had been grinning practically non-stop for half an hour. 

Evidently, Sirius’ best friend could tell that his patience was growing thin. 

With a light eye-roll, James had cut off half-way through an anecdote and just come out with it: “We’re having a baby.”

“ _ I’m _ giving birth to it.” Lily had pointed out. 

At exactly the same time, Sirius had demanded to know “You’re not going to ground?” 

James' dark eyebrows had shot up “And give up?”

No. Of course not.  _ Thank Merlin.  _

Sirius was sure he must have sagged in relief. That is, until he got his wits about him and straightened up again, a smile unfurling across his own lips .

“A  _ baby _ ? An  _ actual  _ baby?” 

“I know!” James had enthused. 

But it was the cool determinedness in Lily’s voice as she told him “In seven months.” that really made it real. 

“Wow!” Sirius laughed, pushing his hands through his hair “Ace.” 

Lily laughed at his use of the muggle slang. Sirius hoped his squeaky-trousered transgression had been forgiven. 

“Have you told the others yet?” 

Once more, James perked up in glee. The Potters had shared a look, his verging on dopey and Lily’s indulgent. In the end, she was the one to broach it. 

“We wanted to let you know first, actually. We want you to be the godfather.” 

Nowadays, Sirius wasn’t sure what his face had done when Lily had finished speaking. But he knew for certain that his heart was doing a full-blown barn dance in his chest. 

“Really? Both of you?” he had asked, sure that his excitement was clear for all to hear. 

Lily had nodded, and that was all that Sirius needed.   
  


“Of course!” he’d exclaimed, not really bothering to keep his voice down. It wasn’t as if there were many customers around. 

James had crowed in triumph, and they were both about to embrace when Lily leant forwards to stop them. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Lily-” James had sighed, leaning back. Sirius hadn’t needed retrospect to know that some kind of disagreement lurked in his tone. 

“I need to know for certain.” Lily had insisted, taking her husband’s hand in hers. 

James had stared at their hands for a second, then glanced apologetically at Sirius and nodded. 

Unsurprisingly, the gaze Lily turned on Sirius had been earnest, and intense. He had felt some of his own giddy joy tempered in response. 

When Lily took Sirius’ hand with the one not occupied with her husband’s, Sirius started. 

“Sirius, are you sure?” she’d asked again “Because we’re at war. Anything could happen. At any time. And if you become this baby’s godfather, then you’re making a commitment to raise it if we can’t. I’m not questioning your loyalty,” Lily continued with a pointed look at her husband “Because I know you’re loyal, but that’s the problem- I don’t want you to have to raise a child if you’re not prepared to be a parent.” 

“Is anyone ever prepared to be a parent?” Sirius had countered gently, throat dry. 

Lily’s expression had said  _ you don’t even know _ . 

With a light squeeze of Lily’s hand, Sirius continued “I promise I’m not taking this lightly. I, uh.” he’d flushed awkwardly “I love you both and I’m sure I’ll love your kid. And I at least know how  _ not  _ to raise one, so…” 

“Thank you.” Lily said, tone warm in a very particular way. She’d had a knack for that, filling you up with  _ some _ kind of feeling you didn’t know you’d been missing. 

Sirius had wondered how Lily did it.

Fifteen years later, a seemingly innocuous letter landed on his desk in the Ministry of Magic. Reading it, Sirius discovered that he would never know. 

Because Lily Evans-Potter was dead. 

Calmly- or at least with a slowness and precision of movement that must have seemed calm- Sirius packed his reports away, locked his desk, and left. Later he’d get a write-up about leaving the night shift half an hour in, but for now he needed to be home. 

**** 

“Remus.” he whispered the minute his feet touched ground. 

Remus didn’t reply. In the white and red wash of electric light coming in through the flat’s windows, it wasn’t hard to see why. Sirius’ godson was curled up loosely on the sofa, lanky limbs trailing, head on Remus’ lap with his nose practically buried in the gap between Remus’ knees. If it was a normal night, Sirius would’ve gone to get his camera, taken a photo and teased Harry about acting like a five-year-old at the grand old age of fifteen. As it was, Sirius could only stare. 

_ His godson.  _

Or rather, Sirius amended, as he silently sat down on the floor in front of the sofa level with Remus’ scarred hand stroking soothingly through Harry’s hair,  _ their kid _ . 

Silently, Sirius cast a muffling spell around Harry’s ears. Even without the risk of waking him, Sirius’ voice sounded too loud when he spoke. 

“How?” 

“Poison.” Remus replied, lips making a dry sticking noise as they parted. Sirius strongly suspected that the only reason why Remus wasn’t weeping profusely then and there was that he’d already cried every drop of water out of his body. 

Sirius was sure that he would get there too. For now, he wanted something to punch. 

“Who?” 

“They don’t know...yet.” Remus replied. The way he set a brief, protective touch on Harry’s shoulder suggested he had his suspicions, though. 

Suddenly, Sirius was staring into Remus’ reddened, apologetic eyes “I’m sorry I had to tell you like that. I thought a letter would be better than being called onto the case.” 

“It would.” Sirius winced “It was. How did Harry…” 

“He left before the poison reached its peak, but other than that he saw the whole thing.” Remus reported, sounding cold but for the crack in his words “The whole fucking-” 

“ _ Hecate help us _ .” Sirius moaned, burying his head in his hands. 

He found no reprieve in the darkness of his palms; it only gave him room to think of Lily, at James’ wake, saying with dull eyes as she bounced Harry up and down:  _ at least he didn’t have to see us both die.  _

Sirius wrenched his eyes open, put his hands in his lap. In the low light, they glistened. He’d been crying after all, then. He sniffed. 

Kindly, exhaustedly, Remus reached down to grasp his shoulder and told him “Let it come.” 

So Sirius did. It was a long, long night. 


	3. When Did You Believe You Were Alone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch me try to build an element of mystery

When Harry woke up in the morning, he was alone except for a crick in his neck and the horrible sense that something awful had happened. 

It took a while of just sitting on the sofa idly cataloguing the minor changes to his uncles' flat for him to remember what. He shuddered. 

_ Water _ , a little voice in Harry's head instructed him. He needed to get himself a glass of water. 

As soon as he stood up, he was bowled back down again. The little voice had sounded like his mother. 

The living room door creaked open. 

"Harry…" 

It was Sirius, looking rougher and more joyless than Harry had ever seen him before. But he still opened his arms for a hug. 

Harry practically sprinted to him, burying himself in the familiarity. Although he did it all the time, on this occasion there was something mournful about the way Sirius ruffled Harry's hair. 

"I'm sorry." Sirius muttered into the top of Harry's head. Harry hadn't quite beaten him for height yet, but his mum always said he would. 

"Me too." Harry sighed back. 

He didn't know what else to say; he'd pretty much covered all his bases when he collapsed against Remus the night before. 

"C'mon." Sirius exhaled, giving Harry a light slap on the back "Breakfast." 

Harry nodded, though he wasn't all that hungry, and followed Sirius through. 

*** 

"Well, fuck." Remus said. 

Beside him, gripping his hand like it might kill them both to let go, Sirius nodded. 

Lily's body was grotesque. It seemed as if she'd been carved out of rotting bark, no inch of her skin free from the blemishes of the poison. Her ankles and wrists were bloated, as if the corpse had been floating in water, her eyes nearly bulged out of her head, and her mouth was wide open, forever contorted in what Sirius hoped, vainly, was not a scream. The only part of Lily that had remained unchanged was her hair, but even the red strands tossed over her shoulders seemed violent. 

"Yes." Remus said quietly "It's her." 

Gingerly, glancing at the two remaining Marauders like they might bat her away, a Ministry witch began to place tiny placards with numbers over the body. The flash and pop of a camera followed. 

_ At least _ , Sirius thought dimly to himself,  _ the dead subject of a photo can't move _ . 

He would have to pull some strings to keep those images out of the  _ Prophet _ , though- there was no way he was letting Harry see that. 

Remus stepped away from the body, pulling Sirius with him. 

"You should start interviewing the witness." 

He should. Sirius turned to Remus. 

"And what are you going to do?" 

He grimaced. 

"Find her will." 

*** 

"I'm so bloody sorry." Ron croaked. 

Harry's gut twisted; it was strange to see his best friend, usually such a grin-and-bear-it person, cry. But then again, Ron had known Harry's mum almost as long as he had. 

"Yeah…" Harry responded vaguely. 

Scattered around the Burrow's maze of a living room, the other Weasleys eyed him in concern. 

Harry seemed to have had a lot of crying in living rooms in the past fews hours. In fact, he decided he'd had enough. 

"Wanna play chess?" 

He earned a few strange looks for that, but Ron, at least, humoured him. 

"Sure," Ron nodded "Muggle?" 

"Why not?" 

They could play it upside down for all Harry cared; he just needed a distraction. 

*** 

From the second they'd apparated outside Lily's house, something had been clawing up Remus' chest that felt a little too much like panic for his liking. Now, standing in the threshold of Lily's extensive workshop-come-office, that panic was making itself known full-force. 

Remus had constructed half of this room himself. It had been the summer Harry turned four, just before he started at the local muggle primary school. Sirius had been enlisted to take him on a day trip so that neither of them would get underfoot, while Lily and Remus got to work sawing, hammering, sanding...Sirius had looked at them like they were mad for doing it the muggle way, but Remus understood. This was  _ Lily _ 's space, and she wanted to work for it. 

When they had finished, Lily linked arms with Remus and said with a hint of a smile playing on her lips:

"Does it make me a bad mother that I can't wait to get back at it?" 

"No." Remus assured her, his own lips twitching; if James was Lily's first love, potions were her second. 

Seeming to think along similar lines, Lily's amusement dimmed a little. But a deep sense of satisfaction still radiated from her as she said "I feel like this is a step in the right direction. Like I'm starting to move on. Not from James," Lily hastened to add "Never from him. But from…" 

"All of it." Remus filled in. 

The lies. The mistrust. The death and pain. The fear. 

None of that touched the room they'd just completed, the soft smell of sawdust and the sharp tang of varnish almost as effective as magical wards. 

"It feels like we're allowed to live again." Remus had mused. 

"Yes." Lily had smiled, tipping her head to rest affectionately on Remus' shoulder "Exactly that." 

Now, though. Now, it was like the war all over again. The room was trashed. Workbenches smashed, ingredient jars shattered, tripods and tools and cauldrons mangled, books on potions and muggle chemistry ripped off the shelves with their pages torn. 

The rest of the house was fine, so someone must have been looking for something specific. Remus prayed they hadn't found it. 

Just as Remus was about to wade into the crime scene in search of Lily’s will, Sirius appeared at his shoulder with a grim expression that only darkened further as he took in the room. 

“Bad news. The witness was a squib, out walking her dog, so she didn’t see as much as we hoped she would’ve. But guess what she  _ did  _ describe?” 

“A dark cloak and white mask?” Remus wondered sardonically. Distantly he recognised the fact that he was having a little trouble breathing. 

“A dark cloak and white mask." Sirius confirmed, wrapping his arm around Remus' waist. 

"No-one’s actually said it, but-” Sirius gestured broadly at the workshop “-seems Death Eater-ish to me.” 

“Brilliant. Why Lily?” 

“I have no idea. You?" 

Remus pursed his lips "Maybe. Only maybe, though. It's just a theory, mind, and-" 

"It can wait 'till we get home." Sirius cut him off, tipping his head meaningfully in the general direction of the rest of the auror team "I have to stick around, but you're free to go." 

The hint was clear, but Remus ignored it "What about the will?" 

"Maybe Harry knows where it is." 

" _ Sirius _ . What have I told you about worrying over too many things at once? Harry will be fine, he's with the Weasleys. And he's unlikely to know where the will is anyway- I mean you only told  _ me  _ where  _ yours  _ was a couple of years ago. It's not something Lily would have wanted to just bring up. Oh!" 

"What?" Sirius narrowed his eyes at Remus' brief grin of triumph. 

“Hogwarts cabinet. It's the only thing Harry can't actually open." 

"Why?" 

Remus smirked knowingly "It's where Lily keeps the invisibility cloak." 

"Wise." Sirius chuckled "Boring, but wise." 

Harry was by no means an unnecessarily disruptive kid, but he was rather selective about which rules he deemed worth following. Sirius was quite proud of him for that, and he strongly suspected Lily and Remus were too- but as parental figures they couldn't exactly let Harry have too much fun. 

Abruptly, Sirius' mirth ended. 

"We really have to deal with Lily's will, don't we?" 

Remus inhaled shakily, his own amusement fading.

"Yes, I suppose we do." 

"Well." Sirius said. 

"Well." Remus echoed "No use delaying it." 

"No." Sirius agreed. 

They continued to hover in the hallway, delaying the inevitable. Then, suddenly plucking up the courage, Remus turned and went. Sirius trudged after him gloomily. 

It was only 1pm. 

*** 

"So what do we do now?" Ron asked. 

He was sat opposite Harry on the floor of his bedroom in The Burrow. Outside, the sun was just setting, casting long shadows over the assorted boxes, tokens, and cards scattered over every surface. 

"I don't know." Harry admitted, fiddling with a stray six of hearts. They'd burned through every board game and card game in the house, stopping only briefly when a pale Molly Weasley forced them to eat with false cheer. 

"I wish Sirius and Remus had let me come with them." 

"To your house?" 

Harry nodded. 

"When Remus called, I heard dad telling mum he was surprised they'd let him go. Said the only reason must've been because they needed someone who wasn't on duty to identify the-" 

Ron cut himself off, flushing.  _ The body _ . Internally, Harry felt like he'd been knocked off balance for the first time all over again. Externally, he winced but brushed off Ron's apologies with a muttered "It's alright." 

They lapsed into silence. Awkward silence- Ron  _ always _ had something to say. Thankfully, the moment was interrupted by a light, almost hesitant tapping at the window. Ron got up, somewhat clumsily as a product of his recent growth spurt, and opened it. A small, impeccably groomed owl swooped in, deposited an envelope on Harry's lap, then swooped out through the open bedroom door and down, Harry presumed, to the kitchen. 

"Hermione?" Ron guessed. 

Harry nodded, noting the handwriting and the fact that the envelope was very much not made out of parchment. 

“Does she know?” Ron asked when all Harry did was stare at it, probably looking quite queasy. 

Harry nodded again “I sent Hedgwig this morning.” 

“You could open it later…” 

“She’d worry.” Harry sighed. 

Then he ripped the envelope open and, despite himself, smiled. Instead of a long, emotional flood of condolences, what fell out was a short note that read  _ I’m here for you xxx  _ and an A5 photo. 

“What?” Ron asked. 

Harry showed him. Though he eyed the note suspiciously, Ron too smiled at the image of the three of them, scrawny twelve-year-olds on their last day of First Year. The Ron in the picture shared a look of fond exasperation with the cameraperson- Neville, Harry thought- while Hermione, failing to hide her laughter, attempted to tell an unrepentant Harry off. He couldn’t remember what he’d done, although he could make an educated guess that he’d probably tried to boop her nose. 

As he looked at the photo, even through the fog clouding his heart, Harry could remember the elated feeling of being on top of the world, surrounded by new friends and old. 

Carefully, Harry slipped the photo back into its envelope and tucked it into the pocket of his robes. 


	4. Waiting For The Hammer To Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapter is angsty. Yes, it took me ages to write. You know why? Because this kind of interaction is challenging me to develop my writing skills, which I really appreciate and which shows the value in trying new things. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading this! And I promise some more action-y, mystery-y, less intense (but possibly not less melodramatic) stuff will come!

Back in the flat, Sirius and Remus sat at the kitchen counter and looked at the parchment in front of them. Soon, one of them would have to let Harry know to floo his way back from The Burrow. For now, they each needed time to process what they’d seen.

"Are we expecting it to speak?" Sirius asked, carefully neutral. 

Like most wizards, James had recorded his will in the style of a howler, albeit one that didn't explode at the end. Only Remus had been able to get through it without sobbing, and that was mostly because, Sirius had discovered later, he'd gone deaf with shock halfway through. 

"I don't think so." 

Sirius nodded. 

"Are we doing the right thing? Getting Harry to read it with us?" 

Remus shrugged "You know as well as I do he wouldn’t want to be left out. And he’ll have to face it eventually." 

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Sirius grumbled, tracing a knot in the counter’s wooden surface with the tip of his finger. The brown splodge formed the shape of an eye, half-closed. 

“No,” Remus agreed, lips pursed “It doesn’t.” 

After a moment, he let out a slightly startled laugh. 

“What?” Sirius questioned, suspicious. 

“We have to raise a teenager.  _ Us!  _ Well,” he picked up the parchment and gave it a shake “Unless this tells us otherwise.” 

“It  _ won’t _ .” Sirius scoffed, flicking his hair back. Who else would Harry go to? Unless…

“Lily wouldn’t send him to her  _ sister  _ would she?” 

Remus recoiled, looking horrified “No, she would  _ not _ . Besides, Petunia wouldn’t take him even if Lily tried.” 

“True.” Sirius agreed darkly. 

“We should tell her what’s happened, though.” 

“I suppose.” 

“ _ Sirius. _ ” 

It was the tone Remus used to use at Hogwarts when he thought that Sirius and James had taken a prank too far; the tone he used when he thought Sirius was being too flippant during the war; the cousin of the tone he’d used when he’d grown suspicious of Sirius for…

All in all, it got Sirius’ hackles up. 

“What do I care?” Sirius snapped “My friend’s been murdered, I-” 

“ _ Your _ friend?” Remus hissed “Like she wasn’t-” 

His jaw clenched.

“That’s not what I meant-” 

“I  _ know  _ that’s not what you meant, but-” 

Sirius launched himself out of his seat with a clatter “She’s  _ dead _ , Remus!” 

Remus blinked at him, then shot up himself, gesturing quickly. 

“It’ll be in the  _ Prophet  _ by Friday and we haven’t even let  _ Alice  _ know-” 

“Well what the  _ fuck _ do we say? ‘Hi, hope you’re well, sorry to say but someone offed your bff’?” 

“The wording’s not important _ -”  _

“Well what  _ is _ , then?” 

“Do you know what this  _ means _ ?” Remus practically growled, stalking closer, intense and sharp like a cornered animal. 

Sirius stood his ground, arms tightly crossed. 

“Yes.”

He did know what it meant. It meant everything he loved was under threat. It meant they’d failed the first time round. It meant they’d started to fail, again. It meant Sirius was more determined than he’d ever been to protect what he had left. 

And Remus understood. Sirius could read it on his face- the set of his jaw, the moisture in his eyes, the paleness of his skin and the anger pulsing under it. Chained beasts, the both of them. 

Silently, Sirius offered his hand to the space between them. Remus took it briefly, a comforting squeeze and a kiss to the knuckles before he dropped it. Argument done. As Remus fussed at the sink, back turned, Sirius leant against the kitchen counter to calm his own rapid heart. Thinking wryly that they couldn’t act more like the stereotype of an old married couple if they tried, Sirius scrubbed a hand down his face- and froze. Peeking out from the doorframe, eyes wide behind his ridiculously unfashionable glasses, was a teenager who should not have been at home. 

“Harry,” Sirius sighed “you’re an awful spy.” 

“You didn’t notice me.” Harry pointed out as he slinked into the open, but it was half-hearted. 

Sirius crossed his arms, very much not thinking about how it probably made him look like his mother “We thought you were at the Weasleys’.” 

“They seemed like they wanted to go to bed, so…” 

Remus appeared at Sirius’ shoulder “Let us know next time you’re coming home early, please.” 

Harry pursed his lips, but (mercifully) nodded. 

“Is Ron here?” 

Harry shook his head ‘no’. 

“Hermione? Any of your other friends?” 

‘No’ both times. 

“Why?” Harry asked, frowning “They know about mum. Was I not meant to tell them, or-” 

“No, no, it’s fine.” Sirirus reassured him.    
  


“What wasn’t I meant to hear?” Harry pressed, because of  _ course  _ he did. 

The two adults exchanged a look. All three of them were visibly exhausted, night was setting in, and the conversation to be had was potentially long and painful. 

“We’ll tell you later.” Sirius said. 

“ _ Tomorrow _ .” Remus emphasised as Harry opened his mouth to protest “For now, we best all go to bed.” 

Harry didn’t move. 

“ _ Bed. _ ” Remus enunciated. 

With a Lily-esque eyeroll they probably weren’t meant to see, Harry trudged back down the corridor. Sirius highly doubted he was actually going to go to sleep. 

“He was easier to handle when he was three.” Sirrius moaned, mostly as an excuse to bury his face in Remus’ shoulder. 

Not that he needed an excuse- Remus seemed perfectly happy to play with Sirius’ hair. 

  
  


*** 

Harry thought breakfast was as good a time as any to launch his campaign, and he chose his moment perfectly: just as his uncles were concluding a friendly battle over the milk. 

"So it's true, then? Dark wizards are coming back?" 

A small ping of guilt made itself known somewhere in the region of Harry's stomach when Remus winced, but he stared them down anyway. Sirius and Remus shared another look, similar to the one that passed between them the previous night- couples' telepathy, Harry supposed, or maybe just a skill that you picked up when you hit thirty. His mum had been good at communicating wordlessly over Harry's head to Remus, Sirius, Mrs Longbottom- even Professor McGonagall. It had made him idly curious as a child; now, he  _ needed _ to know what was going on. 

"Dark Wizards never went away," Sirius told him, sipping his coffee with a casualness that Harry faintly recognised as somewhat forced "There have been Dark Wizards lurking about since the world began. It's Voldemort and his supporters that we're worried about." 

"Mum said-" Harry swallowed "Mum said her dying was soon gonna be the least of our worries." 

Sirius' eyebrows shot up "She did?" 

"She also said not to worry about her because she'd be with dad?" Harry offered. 

Remus already knew that part, but he still got a strange look in his eyes. Sirius took a very long, very deep drink from his now empty coffee mug. Harry obliged him, and looked away. Outside, the city was moving as busily as ever: taxis dodging around busses, busses scaring wandering pigeons, pigeons following after teens strutting down the street plugged in to their Walkmans. 

Lily had a Walkman- or technically, Sirius and Remus had given Lily a Walkman last Christmas and from then on she and Harry had shared it, using one earphone each and taking turns holding it between them as they went on long walks through the countryside surrounding their chocolate-box house. Although it was embarrassing to admit, Harry had loved it. He supposed he wouldn't be seeing a lot of the country anymore, though. 

"I guess I'm not allowed to go home, either, am I?" Harry asked glumly. 

"Probably not." Remus informed him sympathetically "And we don't  _ know  _ that Voldemort's back." 

Suddenly, Sirius’ head jerked up again; at least his eyes weren’t leaking anymore, though they were red-rimmed. 

"Let's get it over with, then." 

Harry nodded, following Sirius’ example as he cleared up the breakfast things and migrated to the sofa. 

It seemed odd, under the current circumstances, to be clearing up breakfast things and sitting on the sofa between his uncles. Then again, Harry wasn’t sure exactly what else they could do. 

When Remus spoke, Harry could see why he’d had a brief stint as a teacher a few years back. 

“So, what’s your understanding of the situation, Harry?” 

“Someone killed my mum. Mum thinks it might’ve been Voldemort. That means we’re at war again. I have to not turn evil.” Harry summarised concisely. 

His uncles looked distinctly amused. 

“Well, that makes our job easier.” Sirius commented; then his tone switched into a short, businesslike one Harry hadn’t heard before “We haven’t had the autopsy report back yet, so cause of death isn’t confirmed. It’s looking like it  _ was  _ a poisonous substance, though. Although there is the possibility it was accidentally self-inflicted, it’s unlikely to be so in Lily’s case given how used to rigorous lab discipline she was. That turns it into a potential murder case, hence Law Enforcement.” 

“But the aurors wouldn’t be involved if they didn’t suspect dark magic.” Harry pointed out, feeling a little like a broken record. 

“True, but Law Enforcement call us in on pretty much every murder case that isn’t very clearly the result of an interpersonal dispute. And, as I was  _ about  _ to say, in this case we have a cloaked and masked suspect.” 

Harry frowned “I didn’t see anyone.” 

“Given the circumstances, you were unlikely to notice- and the suspect was spotted about an hour after you left, anyway.” 

He frowned harder “I wish I’d seen them. I could’ve-” 

“What, Harry?” Remus interrupted sharply. 

Harry startled. Admittedly, Remus could have a temper to match Sirius’; but he was rarely sharp, and only when Harry had done something very bad. 

“I could’ve-” 

“Punched him in the nose?” Sirius interposed, also sounding angry in an odd, restrained way. 

Or maybe it wasn’t quite true anger- both Remus and Sirius had a raw sort of look about them that Harry couldn’t quite place, although he thought maybe it matched the emotion of the argument he overheard last night. 

Nevertheless, Harry insisted “I could’ve  _ tried  _ \- to do  _ something _ ! Instead of just...running away!” 

“Harry, you didn’t run away.” Remus said, calmer “You did the best thing to give your mother her dignity, and you avoided a confrontation that could have ended very badly  _ indeed _ for you.” 

“We know you’re acing it in DADA,” Sirirus added before Harry could open his mouth, slinging an arm over his shoulders “But you can’t possibly have the level of knowledge or experience in combat that an adult dark wizard does. And knowing some of the absolutely  _ delightful _ DMLE officers that I do, even if you  _ had _ managed to defeat a dark wizard, you would probably be arrested for underage magic anyway. And,” Sirius let the arm over Harry’s shoulders fall away “I wouldn’t bail you out.” 

That was a lie. Unless Sirius found Harry being in jail humorous, in which case he would most definitely leave him there, godfatherly duties be damned. 

Harry bit his lip, picking at the hem of his shirt. 

“What  _ can  _ I do? I can’t just do nothing if  _ Voldemort’s _ back.” 

“Again, we don’t know if he is, Harry. You’re mother’s death could have been the result of a workplace rivalry.” 

Harry squinted at Remus “You don’t believe that.” 

“Well.” Remus shifted; he never lied to Harry “What you can do to help, is give the investigating officers all the information you have, keep an eye on the news, stay alert, and stay informed. Take each day as it comes.” 

“Who  _ are  _ the investigating officers?” he turned to Sirius “Are you working on it? Is Tonks?” 

“For now, I am. Dora isn’t. That might change.” 

“Because you know her?” 

Sirius locked eyes with Remus again. 

“Amongst other reasons. For now, let’s just sort out this will.” 

“What will?” 

“Lily’s.” Remus explained. 

Lips pressed into a tight line, he reached into the drawer of the coffee table and extracted a folded piece of parchment, about A4 size, sealed with a massive lump of forest green wax. Harry didn’t know quite what he’d been expecting a will to look like, but it seemed to fit the description. 

“Don’t we need, like, a lawyer or something?” Harry asked, partly to distract himself from the knot in his gut. 

“It’s a wizarding will, Harry.” Sirius said, and took out his wand. 

With a little flair, Remus laid the parchment down on the coffee table and touched the tip of his wand to the seal, Sirius quickly following suit. Harry leant forwards, intrigued. In unison, his uncles began to speak, intoning... _ something  _ in textbook Latin. The parchment glowed, that glow turned to vapour, the vapour curled up from the parchment and rolled into arcane symbols for only a moment before melting away- then the green seal cracked open neatly, revealing the writing inside. 

“That was so cool.” 

Remus smiled vaguely at Harry, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him. Looking a bit queasy, he picked the parchment up and began to read. 


	5. Firestarter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter where a PLOT ?!?! is starting to develop! If you do, no pressure, but I love a comment, even if it's just to gauge if this whole mystery thing is actually turning out as mysterious to you as I'd hoped or not.

_ The last Will and Testament of  _

_ Lily Evans-Potter, née Evans.  _

_ To my son, Harry James Potter, I leave: the residence and associated grounds at 1 Brewer's Lane, including any and all fixtures, fittings, and contents not bequeathed elsewhere; one quarter of the usable funds in Vault 31111981 of Gringotts Bank, to be transferred by the executors to a vault freely and easily accessible by Harry James Potter; all my love and well-wishes.  _

_ To my friends and executors, Remus John Lupin and Sirius Orion Black, jointly: legal guardianship of Harry James Potter until his maturity; the invisibility cloak formerly belonging to James Fleamont Potter, to be kept or given to Harry James Potter at their discretion; my pensive and any and all associated memory vials, should they prove useful; my eternal gratitude. _

_ To Remus Lyal Lupin: any and all potions equipment and potions books; any and all musical paraphernalia including my muggle record player; one quarter of the usable funds in Vault 31111981 of Gringotts Bank for his personal use; the hope that your future is bright.  _

_ To Sirius Orion Black: my car (Registered Muggle Artefact 60-92-21); any and all extant correspondence to or from James Fleamont Potter; one quarter of the usable funds in Vault 31111981 of Gringotts Bank for his personal use; all the kindness my memory can give you.  _

_ To Alice Longbottom, née Herdwick: the birch and mahogany wizard's chess set given to me by her as a wedding present; my antique remembrall collection; boundless affection.  _

_ To Petunia Dursley, née Evans: the vase and end-table formerly belonging to our parents; any and all items of muggle clothing to do with as she wishes; the desire to part fondly. _

_ To Nymphadora Tonks: all the scrunchies, hair ties, and ribbons I stole from you in your childhood; all the books and trinkets you borrowed and never gave back- I said goodbye to them anyway; you’d better not stop being you.  _

_ To Neville Longbottom: all the plants and cuttings from my garden that you want- may you grow them and your talent.  _

_ To Hermione Jean Granger: my charmed printing press and associated accessories; the hope that you never stop in your pursuit of knowledge, without forgetting to enjoy life outside books as well.  _

_ To Ronald Billius Weasley: my family recipe book; the hope that it helps you find your niche.  _

_ To be distributed to charitable funds, selected at the discretion of the executors: one quarter of the contents of vault 31111981 of Gringotts Bank. _

_ Thus concludes the last Will and Testament of Lily Evans-Potter, née Evans, valid to the exclusion of previous iterations. Dated 25th January 1995.  _

  
  


And that was it. Lily’s will. The words as Remus had read them, pained and quietly reverent, looped on and on in Sirius’ head like a litany echoing off the walls of an infinite church. 

He wasn’t proud of it, but after sitting on the sofa long enough for Harry to stop surreptitiously scrubbing tears away, and for Remus to start talking about notifying those concerned, Sirius had made a speedy exit. Now, he perched on the end of a cheap wooden bench in a poky, overlooked beer garden and took a drag from his cigarette. He didn’t know why he was trying to hide; Remus would smell the smoke on him in a second. 

He hadn’t bought a fag in years. 

A strange, deranged laugh beat its way up his throat and died in the polluted air. The  _ look  _ Lily would give him, never mind the telling-off:  _ you’ve been clean for fourteen years and  _ this  _ is what sets you off again?  _ Or, rather, she’d be gentler. Say,  _ I understand the need, but if you ever want to quit again and need help doing it... _ Sirius took another drag. 

It wasn’t just the will, tangible evidence that Lily was in fact deceased and still somehow giving him more than he deserved. It was the conversation they’d had before it. More specifically, his godson’s agitated adolescent face, scrunched up in innocent indignation. He’d looked just like James. Just like Lily too, the first time he’d really started to appreciate her for something more than the nerdy girl James was, for some unfathomable reason, obsessed with...Sirius shoved the memory away for later and drained the rest of the pint that had lain mostly forgotten for the past hour. 

As he set the glass down, something moved in the late-afternoon shadow collecting under the scrubby bushes and in the corners of the moulding fence.

His wand was in his hand before he had the conscious thought to get it. 

“ Homenum Revelio.”

Nothing. Yet Sirius still felt the familiar prick of being watched. Hoisting his wand higher, Sirius spun in a slow circle, scanning manually as well as with magic. The rooftops were clear except for one thing: a dull brown bird tracking him with sharp yellow eyes. 

Sirius extracted the cigarette from between his lips, stubbed it out in the tin ashtray on the table, and apparated away. 

*** 

"Noticed any strange birds lately?" 

The assembled squad blinked at him, confused. One of the newbies giggled nervously. 

Slightly disappointed, Sirius shrugged from his spot in the very corner of the meeting room “Worth a try.” 

“Right.” Kingsley Shaklebolt said, eyeing Sirius dubiously before he continued with the briefing “Has anyone got any  _ informative _ updates?” 

“The toxicology report.” O’Leary announced to the chair in front of her “St Mungo’s are working it through. Quite eager, like, given…” she glanced quickly at Sirius, who raised an eyebrow “Given they’d liaised with the victim sometimes, an’ all.” 

“Good.” Kingsley nodded authoritatively “Any news on the forensics?” 

“Working on it.” was Southerton’s staccato reply “Actually, I- I rather need to speak with you after the briefing, sir.” 

Kingsley eyed Southerton with what Sirius could recognise as thinly veiled contempt, but nodded.

“Anything else?” 

Silence. 

“Well, we may as well wrap up. Stay sharp, work hard, you know what the alarm sounds like.” 

The aurors variously nodded and muttered their thanks, shuffling out of the meeting room into the cavernous hall of desks they’d hopefully be spending the rest of the shift in. Not for the first time, Sirius was left with the feeling that the Ministry was, in essence, nothing more than a very convoluted version of Hogwarts. 

Just as Sirius was letting the door swing shut behind him, Kingsley called “Black? I need to speak with you, too.” 

Sirius nodded and settled outside the closed door to wait. He wondered what Southerton wanted to talk about; knowing him, probably nothing good. 

Sure enough, Southerton blew past Sirius some five minutes later with a glare and the air of someone suffering great challenges with not a lot of dignity. 

Sirius scoffed and made his way back into the meeting room. Kingsley was just settling down on the top of a table, a suggestion of the power he gave off in front of the squad still evident in the poise of his square shoulders. He smiled at Sirius, which was never a good sign. 

“Birds?” 

Sirius shrugged. 

“Pursue all avenues.” 

Kingsley, who had been something of a mentor to Sirius and James when they’d enlisted out of Hogwarts, simply shook his head. 

“Sirius, are you fit to work this case?” 

He straightened “You don’t fuck about.” 

“And you shouldn’t.” Kingsley retorted with a frisson of command; Sirius nodded in concession “I know how close you were to Lily. You’re raising her child. Are you sure you don’t want to take bereavement leave?” 

“Yes.”

Kingsley’s dark, crow-footed eyes were unwavering “Why?” 

“You  _ know _ where this could be heading. I’m not going to let anyone bury that.” 

“ _ Could  _ be.” 

“I hope as much as you do that it isn’t.” Sirius confessed, though he was under no illusions that his prayers would be answered “Either way, I owe it to Lily to make sure this investigation is done right.” 

It felt as if Kingsley’s scrutinizing gaze was exposing Sirius’ very bones. 

“You swear to me that you’ll conduct this investigation impartially?” Kingsley asked seriously. 

“And enthusiastically.” 

“You’ll follow procedures?” 

Sirius nodded. 

“And you didn’t kill her?” 

Sirius went to nod again; then Kingsley’s words registered “What the-” 

Kingsley seemed to think equally as highly of the suggestion as Sirius did, though he had more dignity in expressing it. 

“Southerton suggested you should be included on the list of suspects, among others, given that your trace is fairly evident in the house.” 

“ _ Me? _ ” Sirius hissed “As if I’d  _ ever _ \-  _ What others? _ ” 

From where Sirius was standing, Kingsley didn’t look particularly inclined to tell him, but he admitted anyway “Remus and Harry.” 

Sirius wondered how many of Southerton’s limbs he could maim before someone objected. 

With a shifting of purple robes, Kingsley stood.. 

“I dismissed the theory.” he informed Sirius with a light clap on the back “Reminded him of Remus’ service during the war, and Harry’s proven good relations with his mother. Why don’t you take a moment here to...absorb it, though. And don’t mention your own theory yet.” 

“ _ My  _ theory?” 

“Officially.” 

Sirius nodded. Alone in the meeting room, Sirius slumped into an uncomfortably padded chair and wracked his brain for something to say to himself to make it all okay. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have a lot of time to try: there was a tentative knocking at the door. 

Sirius glanced up, made a vague grunt of approval, and in came- 

“Tonks!” 

“Sirius.” she parroted back with an echo of the pep she usually had “Kingsley said you’d be moping in here.” 

In light of the bags under her eyes and the uncharacteristically unobtrusive, mousy brown of her hair, Sirius let the comment slide. 

“You’re not usually on the night shift.” 

“I’m just off. Thought I’d hang around and catch you-” 

“Pilfer away all the details of the case.” Sirius finished. 

Tonks’ hair flashed, for the briefest of moments, a mischievous yellow “Got it in one.” 

Sirius stretched, tipping his chair precariously onto its hind legs “There’s not really much to say. We’re still gathering evidence, analysing it.” 

“Any working theories?” 

“Not officially.” 

Tonks pulled out a chair with flourish and straddled it, the bottoms of her baggy jeans rising up to uncover cargo boots and a pair of  _ Hello Kitty _ socks. 

“Any Remus theories?” 

Sirius huffed lightly “I don’t doubt it. He’s had that shifty look a lot lately.” 

“The Sexy Thinker.” Tonks clarified. 

“ _ Sexy? _ ”

“Well it is, isn’t it?” 

Sirius shifted awkwardly. 

“It’s cool,” Tonks giggled “Don’t worry. I haven’t had my eye on your man since I was seven- wait. Dammit! He wasn’t your man, then. Missed my shot.” 

Sirius shook his head at Tonks' theatrics, smiling quietly. 

“When did you ever  _ have  _ a shot? He was twenty-one when you were seven.” 

“Hey, a girl could dream. He used to come into Lily’s laboratory, back when we were all at Order HQ, looking all rumpled and intent and I’d get all blushy. He’d give me pieces of chocolate when Lily wasn’t looking, sometimes.” Tonks added wistfully. 

Well, that explained the jokes Lily used to make about Remus bribing her lab assistant. 

“‘Course,” Tonks continued, clearly in the swing of things “I also had a teeny tiny crush on Lily, even if I didn’t realise it at the time. Then I had an epiphany in third year; forget Hufflepuff, ‘think half of  _ Gryffindor _ got a running commentary.” 

“I’m sure such a clear natural aptitude for subtlety put you in good stead for becoming an auror.” 

“Shove it!” Tonks snorted “My point is, I think we need Remus in on this one.” 

“So do I, that’s why I brought him to ID the body. Of course,” Sirius clarified with a wink, the old stir of adventure igniting somewhere deep inside his chest “We, being aurors, couldn’t possibly condone the reckless involvement of a civilian in a case that only one of us is working.” 

“No, we couldn’t possibly.” Tonks agreed in a surprisingly good replica of the RP her mother never quite dropped. 

Of course, the RP her mother never quite dropped was also the RP that Sirius never quite dropped, so he was obliged to flick a quill at her, but nevertheless: the matter was decided. 

All Sirius had to do was get through his shift and fill Remus in. 

  
  
  



	6. Teenage Circus

“Is Sirius okay?” Harry asked, drying up the last knife from lunch “He seems…” 

“Flighty?” Remus filled in, not without bite. 

Harry, eyes narrowing warily, nodded. 

Remus counted to five in his head. With each passing number, he buried his irritation, frustration, helplessness, and overwhelming sadness a little deeper. Harry wasn't exactly a toddler anymore, but he wasn't adult enough yet to have to deal with Remus' frazzled emotions. 

“Sirius gets that way, sometimes." he explained "You won’t have seen it before. It’s annoying, but there’s not much we can do about it.” 

"He's grieving." 

Remus nodded. He liked that explanation: it was stunningly true and deceptively simple. 

Harry moved as if to tug at his sleeves, but for once he was actually wearing a t-shirt, so he just curled up his fingers. How Lily and James had managed to produce, and Sirius and Remus help to raise, a child so prone to bouts of shyness, Remus didn't know. 

"Can Hermione stay over after the funeral?" Harry asked “She said her mum doesn’t want her travelling back late. Actually, when do we start planning the funeral? We  _ are _ having one, right?” 

“Well,” Remus settled against the kitchen counter “Firstly, there will be a funeral, Harry, and Sirius and I will take care of it- you can have input, of course, but it’s our job as executors.” 

“Secondly,” Remus faltered slightly “Are you and Hermione involved?” 

“Involved in wha- Ugh, no! That would be like dating my  _ sister _ !” 

Despite himself, Remus chuckled softly. Harry had the expression of someone who had bitten into a lemon expecting it to taste like candyfloss. 

“What?” Harry challenged, even though a smile was tugging itself over his lips “It  _ would _ . It would be like- Like you dating mum, or something.” 

“Your father and Sirius were convinced your mother and I  _ were _ dating for an entire term in Sixth year, you know.” 

“Really?” Harry prodded, eager as he always was to hear more about their- and particularly James’- past exploits. 

“Oh, yes. You know by now that we all made some very poor decisions in school-” Harry, having probably heard a  _ lot  _ about how poor those decisions were from Lily, rolled his eyes “and that some were worse than others. At the start of sixth year, Sirius played a so-called prank on a boy called Severus Snape that -” 

“The Shrieking Shack,” Harry filled in “It’s okay, I know.” 

“Oh, alright.” Remus was surprised but relieved “Well, then you know I was an unwilling participant. Naturally, I was incredibly angry with Sirius, as was your mother- at that point, although their relationship was fragmenting, Severus was still one of her best friends. Given that Lily was essentially my only friend outside your father, Sirius, and-” 

“Peter Pettigrew.” 

“Yes.” Remus admitted sourly “And given that your mother didn’t have very many close friends other than Severus either, we found common cause. We’d sit together in the common room, at meals, in-between classes...essentially, wherever Sirius  _ wasn’t _ . Sometimes James would sit with us as well, but he was quite busy trying to impress on Sirius how colossal a dunce he’d been.” 

_ While Peter steadfastly backed Sirius up _ , Remus added to himself. 

“So you and mum got closer?” 

“Yes.” Remus smiled “As we got closer, our conversations started to stray into increasingly more intimate topics, so we started to take ourselves off into increasingly private corners to have them. It did feel a little bit like dating, I’ll admit. Lily and I crammed all of the getting-to-know-you us Marauders had done over the past six years into three weeks. Of course, people noticed- Lily was somewhat of a public figure in school, and ever since the Shrieking Shack incident Severus had been circulating rumours that I’d tried to kill him. Soon people were saying that Lily and Severus had been dating and that I’d tried to kill Severus in order to steal her from him, or at her bidding. Not many people believed the rumours, but they spread well- and I believe Severus  _ did _ quite fancy your mum at one point, so it was quite easy to think they could be true.” 

Harry pulled a face. 

“So dad and Sirius thought they were?”

“No, that’s the funny part.” Remus smiled “James ultimately came to believe them because your dad opened the broom cupboard one quidditch practice to find Lily and I snogging, robes in disarray, covered in rose petals. Naturally, Sirius found the evidence hard to dispute.” 

“But- but you’re  _ gay _ .” 

“Very much so.” Remus confirmed, enjoying Harry’s scandalised confusion immensely. 

“But then why were you-” 

“We weren’t. It was a boggart.” 

“A boggart?” Harry repeated “Dad’s greatest fear was-” he dissolved into laughter. 

Remus joined in, revelling in the invigorating rush of amusement. He chased the moment, brushing the tears barely pooling in his eyes away. 

“And do you know what I gave them for a wedding gift, Harry? A rosebush.” 

“That’s amazing!” Harry wheezed, calming down at last. 

“I have my moments. Now, off you go- it’s gone half two, you have homework to do and I have work.” 

“But how am I meant to concentrate when I’m thinking about  _ roses _ ?” 

_ Better than thinking about the will we just read.  _

Remus cocked an eyebrow “You’re a bright boy, I’m sure you can find a way.” 

Harry moaned like a wounded soldier in typical teenage fashion as he left the kitchen, but he was smiling. 

Remus counted that as a win. 

***

Sirius got home tired, sore, and late. When he entered the kitchen it was to find Remus at the table amongst a sea of parchment, staring at the words in front of him as still as a statue, except for the twiddling of his quill. 

“Looks like your work is going as well as mine.” Sirius commented. 

Remus startled, evidently having not noticed Sirius come in, then smiled wryly.

“Remind me never to accept another commission to research  _ earth-bound mermaids _ . What’s  _ your _ gripe?” 

Sirius plonked himself into a chair, flicking his wand onto the table with much less care than he ought to give. 

“Got into a muggle-style scuffle on a call-out, and no-one’s made much progress with Lily yet. I have more to say on that, but first,” Sirius glanced around the suspiciously calm flat “Where’s Harry? I should say hello.”

“At the Weasley’s. He said he, Ron, and Ginny were going to do some of their summer work, but I didn’t see him take his books. I did see him take his broom, though.” 

Sirius laughed fondly “A quidditch fanatic. You must be so disappointed.” 

“And who’s fault is that?” Remus asked. 

Then he sobered, and the little fold that Sirius both loved and hated appeared between his brows “He asked if you were okay.” 

Sirius suddenly found his hands very interesting. Remus’ quill started moving again, flicking up and down at an acute angle in the periphery of Sirius’ vision. 

“I don’t want this to be a repeat of what happened after James died.” 

“Remus…” 

“I know, you’re-  _ we’re  _ not there yet, but just...let’s not drift away from each other. Not again.” 

Sirius caught Remus’ hand in his, stilling the quill, and ghosted a kiss onto his scarred knuckles. 

“We won’t.” he vowed. 

“Good.” 

Remus set his quill down. 

“What did you want to say about work?” 

“Well, it’s not strictly about  _ work  _ \- it’s about how you might be able to help with the case.” 

“You think I know something you don’t?” 

“Well you have your suspicions, don’t you?” 

Remus’ head inclined “I had thought there might be something wrong at Lily’s work. She seemed unusually pre-occupied in the last month or so. When I asked, she’d blame the labs or research.” 

Sirius frowned. 

“I didn’t notice.” 

“She was in full facade mode; I only managed to pry that out of her because I caught her off-guard. If only...Well.” Remus swallowed “Perhaps it’s a reason to ask around the Ministry labs.”

“Already did that. Turned up nothing.” 

“Hmm.” Remus’ knitted brows finally smoothed.

He smiled serenely “In that case, if you really  _ do _ want my help, I’d best make sure to mention anything unusual I see when I go to the Ministry to pick up Lily’s things. Given that I’m an executor, and the labs are no longer of interest to the case, it only seems the appropriate thing to do.” 

“Sounds constructive to me too, Moony.” Sirius nodded. 

“Well,” Remus stood, and Sirius could see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes “No time like the present. I’ve told Harry not to eat the Weasleys out of house and home, so he should be back for tea.” 

“Good luck.” Sirius saluted, and headed to bed. 

*** 

The Ministry potions labs were not as grand as the rest of the building, but the air had the same taste- wet brick, cheap coffee, parchment- and the woman manning the department reception desk looked down at Remus through her glasses with the same kind of self-importance that seemed to grow on Ministry employees like mould. 

“Hello,” Remus smiled, trying to seem disarming “I’m Remus Lupin, executor of Lily Evans-Potter. I’m here to collect her personal effects- she headed a lab here.” 

The receptionists’ eyes lighted on his visitor’s badge, but she didn’t seem satisfied. 

“May I see some ID?” she asked impassively. 

Remus showed her. 

“And do you have any proof that you are Potioneer Evans-Potter’s executor?” 

Remus grimaced- he hadn’t thought to bring the original will, and they didn’t have a copy yet. Thinking fast, Remus extracted his wallet from the breast pocket of his robes. Under the receptionists’ judging eye, he rifled through the tickets and business cards that seemed to manifest out of nowhere, passed more carefully over the polaroid of a laughing James, and finally extracted what he was looking for: a snap of Remus, Sirius, Lily, and Harry taken last year at Arthur Weasley’s forty-fifth birthday party. Subtly, Remus gave his photo-self and photo-Sirius a stern look; they scowled at him, but somehow got the message to stop snogging in the background. Remus handed the photo to the receptionist. 

She squinted at it, then nodded. 

“Yes, that’s alright.” she took her glasses off, folding them with a resonating  _ click _ “You should know, we had a strange man here yesterday asking for the same thing. He didn’t have an ID, though, so I sent him away.” 

“You did? What was his name?” 

“He didn’t say.” 

“Could you give me a rough description of him?” Remus pressed. 

The receptionists’ nose twitched in apparent affront “I couldn’t describe him to you if I tried- it was as if he was charmed, though there are wards down here against that sort of thing.” 

“Wise.” 

“Yes. Which lab did you say it was?” 

“Hm? Oh, yes, Lily’s lab. Primary Development, Physiological and Psychological.” 

“Someone will be through soon to escort you.” the receptionist informed him, doing something out of sight on her desk. 

Sure enough, a young man wearing a slightly splattered lab coat emerged a minute or so later, panting lightly. He stood staring at Remus. 

The receptionist closed her eyes briefly with an air of supreme frustration “This gentleman is here to collect Potioneer Evans-Potter’s belongings.” 

“Right! Oh! Yes! Follow me!” 

The young man was already halfway down the corridor, twisting around every so often to see that Remus was following. He was frowning as if he recognised Remus, but couldn’t place him. 

Finally, the man blurted out “Were you a Hogwarts Professor?” 

Remus nodded “Nearly a decade ago, now.” 

“Aha!” the young man clapped his hands, startling a witch heading in the opposite direction with a tray of dried herbs “That’s where I know you from! Professor Lupin, right? I had you for Defense in first year, I think.” 

“That seems feasible. Forgive me, but I don’t seem to remember you.” Remus admitted. He hoped this corridor couldn’t be much longer- every heavy oak door they passed was firmly shut, and it was getting repetitive. 

“So you knew Potioneer Evans-Potter?” 

“Yes, she was one of my best friends.” 

“That’s wicked! You know she  _ stabbed  _ He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?” 

Remus grit his teeth. 

“Yes, I was aware.” 

_ She’s also dead now _ , he didn’t add. 

“So cool!” the young man continued to enthuse, evidently completely missing the fact that Remus was valiantly fighting the urge to trip him up (at  _ least _ ). 

Thankfully for both of them, they arrived at the right lab. And the first person they came across when they entered was someone Remus had actually met before, even if it was only twice. 

“Remus!” 

He smiled slightly at the exuberant way she rolled her ‘r’s.

“Hello, Sofia.” 

Heedless of the full potion vessel occupying one of her hands, Sofia dragged him down to kiss his cheeks in greeting the Continental way. Remus flushed. 

“He’s come for Potioneer Eva-” 

Sofia, who was not the head of the lab for the very simple reason that she didn’t have a diplomatic bone in her body, cut the young man off. 

“You’ve come for Lily’s things.” 

Before Remus could even open his mouth, Sofia had spun with surprising agility for a plump woman nearing retirement age, and was dragging him through the lab. As they went, Remus caught around ten faces wearing expressions ranging from concerned to outraged; he supposed they didn’t get a lot of guests. Neither did they get the opportunity to question his presence, as Sofia was herding him into a smaller room at the end of the lab, populated by desks, chairs, and thankfully no more potioneers. 

Remus immediately identified Lily’s desk. It was the biggest, though that wasn’t saying a lot, and also the least densely clustered; though Lily was a neat person, Remus suspected the fact that the desk was absent of lab-related papers contributed significantly to that fact. On the other hand, the desk  _ was _ crowded by an array of carefully organised post-it notes saying things like ‘buy tea’ or ‘read  _ Pride and Prejudice _ ’, framed photos, a couple of novelty remembralls Alice might be glad to have, and the diploma from Lily’s apprenticeship in this very lab. Heart heavy, Remus took out a bag and began to slowly pack those signs of life away. 

“It’s tragic” Sofia lamented, obviously uncomfortable with the silence “not even forty yet. A single mother- I hope you’ve found someone to look after her son!” 

“His godfather,” Remus replied calmly “And me.” 

“Ah, of course, you and Lily are intimate.” Sofia proclaimed wisely. 

Remus paused to raise his eyebrows, filtering out as much of his welling frustration as he could. 

Sofia clapped him on the back “I’m joking. Lily worked too hard to be intimate with anyone.” 

“As engrossed in potions as ever, then?” Remus prodded, bagging Lily’s notes one by one. 

“Yes, yes. Always hunched over something, or in the archives.” 

“She told me she wasn’t quite so keen on those.” 

Apparently it was buried deep inside the Ministry and consequently was damp, cold, and dark. 

“No,” Sofia shrugged “But maybe she likes them more now. She visited them a lot recently.” 

_ What a coincidence… _

No longer stalling, Remus popped the final bundle of notes into the bag all at once. The desk was as bare as if Lily was never there. 

“I should be off.” 

To her credit, Sofia absorbed Remus’ abrupt change in pace with only a minimum of overt squinting. 

“You have everything?” 

Remus nodded. 

“Good boy. I’ll walk you out.” 

Remus glanced nervously at the potion Sofia was still carrying, which was emitting a faint trail of smoke. 

“Ah, never mind this.” Sofia grinned “It likes to be cuddled.” 

Remus left the Ministry debating two things. First, whether being ever so slightly unhinged was a prerequisite to being a potioneer, or a side-effect. Second, if he had any hope of being able to enter the Ministry archives unobserved. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm enjoying leaning into Remus talking in an overwrought way because he started doing it to put up a front and now Can't Stop, while everyone else is just like 'That's our Remus, he talks like an Edwardian and we love him'


	7. When I See You Cry It Makes Me Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up- this chapter has time skips.
> 
> Also I've been sorta imagining Harry and James Potter as Desi but I realised I never actually said that in the fic, sorry. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Are you serious?” 

For some reason, O’Leary didn’t look particularly pleased at Sirius’ tone. Nor did Kingsley, who was giving Sirius a potent glare. 

“Yes.” O’Leary confirmed, nonetheless “‘ _No known poison_.’” 

She tapped the words on her transcription of the toxicology report as if in confirmation. 

“An unknown poison with a particularly violent result...” Southerton said in a voice that he clearly thought was convincingly musing, even as he stared fixedly at Sirius from across the meeting room “Not known to us, of course. But to those trained in the oldest of the Dark Arts…” 

_Merlin_ . Sirius hadn’t felt so typecast since he and Remus had attempted to collect Harry from a primary school activity day and the substitute teacher running it had all but accused them of attempted kidnap. At least in that case, the teacher’s trepidation could be explained by a failure to become acquainted with the concepts of interracial adoption and homosexuality. _Southerton_ seemed to have simply decided that despite Sirius’ exemplary record as an auror and general opponent to Voldemort, he was going to let an official investigation be influenced by his preconceptions of Sirius’ family name. 

“Like your cousin?” a mild voice piped up. 

Sirius didn’t know where the voice came from, or what exactly Southerton’s cousin had done, but whoever it was he could have kissed them. Southerton turned a violent puce that combined with his greying, buzzcut hair produced the impression of a mouldy beetroot. 

Kingsley looked about ready to Avada Kedava himself, but Sirius was suddenly having a lot of fun. 

Until Jephson, fresh blood who Tonks had confidently described as ‘hot but kinda scary’, said:

“No-one’s interviewed the victim’s son yet.” 

Five pairs of eyes swivelled to stare at Sirius. His gut twisted, but he had to concede that Harry’s official testimony could be a gold-mine of potential leads- especially ones that might help identify the poison. 

“Can he have an adult with him?” 

“So long as that adult isn’t you, yes.” 

Sirius nodded somewhat apprehensively “That can be arranged. When?” 

“Now?” Jephson suggested hopefully, warm accent wrapping around the vowels. 

“We have to give witnesses adequate notice if we don’t take their testimony immediately. We're off tomorrow, then it’s the day shift. We’ll do it then.” Kingsely interceded “For now-” 

The alarm cut him off. 

****

_It was Harry's first day at Hogwarts. He couldn’t articulate that fact, in the dream, but he knew it._

_Platform 9 ¾ was abuzz. Lily had dragged them behind a wide brick arch, away from the eye of the storm as well as the eyes that tracked the adults in awe. The ten-year anniversary of Voldemort’s defeat had drawn a certain amount of media attention to the Order of the Phoenix, and Lily was already practically a piece of folklore._

_Sirius and Remus had said their bit, the former exhorting Harry to wreak at least a little mayhem on those who deserved it, and had now stepped back, slightly misty eyed. Because it was a dream, his dad was between them as well, an arm thrown over each. He looked proud._

_Then everything faded and there was only Lily, wrapping Harry up in a tight hug he made a show of squirming away from, laughing kindly at the green look on his face._

_"You'll be better than fine." she reassured him "You'll be amazing. Be good, make friends, and don't get too caught up in the house rivalries."_

_"Yes mu-_

_Last summer, getting home from Arthur Weasley's big birthday, stuffed and slightly sunburnt. Harry was already shucking off his dress shirt and about to take his broom for a fly to catch the last of the late evening sun when Lily caught him in what seemed to be the kitchen, even though his dormant mind had failed to conjure up a sink. Lips quirked, Harry’s mum held out a glass of champagne- half-filled, but real._

_"Only special occasions." She warned._

_But more than Ron was allowed! Harry grinned and brought the chiseled flute to his lips, gulping the bubbles down. It burnt, bitter then sweet. He coughed a little; Lily laughed. Then-_

_He was six. It was super late and the whole house was dark, but he'd woken up with flashes of green and red and screaming faces and running feet seared into his eyelids. He'd tried so hard to be a big boy but he was scared and he'd started crying.His mummy had heard. She padded into Harry's room and got into the bed; Harry snuggled into her warmth, burying himself under her armpit, still sniffing._

_"It's okay." his mummy crooned "It's okay."_

_Fluff wrapped around his arm. He peeked down curiously and smiled- she'd charmed his favourite teddy to get up and give him a hug._

_Softly, though not particularly well, Lily began to-_

_Scream. His mum was screaming, writhing, rotting._

_“Help me!” she begged, reaching out half-petrified hands towards him “Help!”_

_Harry’s mouth fell open. He felt himself step back. It was like dragging his feet through treacle._

_“Harry! Please!”_

_What was he doing? He had to help her!_

_“Mum!” he cried, trying to run forwards. But he only got further away._

_“Mum!” Harry called again, panicking, feet hitting the ground faster and faster, their living-room-come-kitchen-diner stretching out like a rubber band._

_Horrified, Harry looked down and saw that his feet were facing backwards._

_“Harry!”_

It was silent. Silent except for the blunt, desperate thump of his heartbeat in his ears. 

Tears flowed down his cheeks, bleeding into the pillow that was and was not his.

Harry scoured them away in consternation. 

More came. 

Now, his breaths were hitching and his chest was caving in. Instinctively, he curled in on himself, grappling with his pillow, wrestling it like a boa constrictor.

_Let it all out_ , Remus had instructed him in his quiet, confident way a week ago.

Harry bit his lip. He didn't want to wake his uncles - but he couldn't stop the raw, bloody sob that ripped out of his throat. And he couldn’t stop the ones that followed either. 

It was only when the scritching at the door began that Harry realised some of the whines echoing off the walls weren’t his. 

So much for not waking his uncles. 

“C-come in!” Harry called, struggling to get enough air in. 

Sirius didn’t need to be told twice. There was a light thump as he got up on two legs to drag the door handle down then Harry was engulfed in a warm heap of dog. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you.” he more or less got out. 

Sirius let out a grumbly sound that Harry translated as something along the lines of ‘nonsense!’. After that, he didn’t say much more, just chuffed and whined and grunted as Harry let his sobs run out- though Harry thought he may have seen a very human wetness in Sirius’ canine eyes. 

“‘M sorry.” he mumbled, patting sleepily at Sirius. 

Sirius snorted then stretched out by his side, tail draped comfortingly over Harry’s calves. 

The adrenalin was gone, but his nightmare still clung to him like a shadow. And Harry didn’t think the fierce ache kicked up by his more pleasant dreams would ever go away. 

With a small, grateful smile Harry let himself fall back to sleep. 

****

“You again.” 

Remus grimaced at the man checking visitors into the Ministry. Beside him, Harry gave Remus a confused look. 

Remus focussed on the guard, who hadn’t returned his papers. 

“Duty calls.” he smiled thinly. 

“You’re a werewolf.” 

Harry bristled, but Remus was used to this kind of thing. He nodded placidly. 

“Don’t worry, the full moon isn’t for another fortnight.” 

The guard harrumphed and shoved Remus’ papers back in his face diffidently. He didn’t take a lot more care with Harry’s.

“Thank you.” Harry bit, plucking his papers back out of the guard’s hands before he’d fully extended them. Remus didn’t reprimand him, though he noted with some discomfort the contemptuous look the guard gave Harry as they turned. 

“We should hurry.” Remus said. 

They’d been slightly delayed, so Remus was wary of pissing off any more Ministry workers. He needn't have worried, though- the escort waiting for them outside the doors to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was very familiar. 

"How's it hanging?" Tonks smirked, giving Harry a fond punch in the shoulder as he snickered like the cheeky toddler he'd once been. 

"Not too badly." Harry replied, even though the paleness of his skin spoke to the contrary "I thought you weren't on this case." 

"Nah, but I wanted to say 'hi'." Tonks replied, winking at Remus. 

He rolled his eyes, following her obediently down a lot of very uninteresting corridors. 

And then they were there. The room was small, the words 'Interview One' engraved in gold on the frosted glass of the door. Inside, the walls were the same dark brick as the rest of the Ministry and bare except for a single sconce illuminating a plain wooden table, bracketed by four chairs. The two facing the door were already occupied. 

"Well, see you later." Harry blustered, moving to push open the door. 

Remus panicked and caught him by the shoulder "I can come in, if you want, remember?"

"Uh-" 

"It's up to you, but Sirius and I would both prefer me to be there." 

Harry looked distinctly relieved, and distinctly intent on hiding it. 

"Oh, well. If you'd prefer…" 

They entered. 

**** 

Peter was used to being someone else’s tool. 

He’d been a tool in his schooldays, a tool in his early adulthood, and he was a tool still now. That, in his opinion, was nothing to be ashamed of. After all, the runt of the pack had power most people didn’t understand. And he was not lacking in ideas of what to do with it. 

However, being a tool did have its disadvantages. Namely, he had very little choice in how he was used. 

Or where. 

Thus, his unenviable perch on the roof above the flat belonging to Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. 

Unsurprisingly, the place was warded as far to the hilt as was possible for a relatively new residence. Peter could understand that impulse; paranoia never died, after all. 

It had been annoying to feel the magic probing curiously at the faint signature radiating from his animagus form when he had first settled on the slates last night, though. Moreover, the wards were so thick they’d nearly invalidated his entire mission. He was only saved by the heat of mid-August, which had compelled Remus to open the living room window, letting the sound of he and Sirius sorting through funeral arrangements leak out into the night. 

It was...slightly odd to hear his old friends, older. Not bad; not good. Just odd. 

Peter was nearly nodding off before they got to the interesting bit: updating each other on the little case they’d built around Lily’s murder. Very little, in fact. They didn’t seem to have got much further than surmising that a dark wizard had done it, possibly because Lily had done something to offend one, or possibly because of something to do with the war or potions. Remus had seemingly snooped in Lily’s workplace, but Peter knew he wouldn’t have found anything. Then Sirius was asking if Remus would accompany Harry to his interview. That, Peter had also known about. The only thing he _really_ needed to know was when they’d leave. But of course, Peter’s luck ran out and they headed to bed, accompanied by an inordinate amount of frankly disgusting flirting. 

After that the night passed monotonously, apart from two points of excitement: Peter nearly got eaten by the only bird he had ever met that couldn’t tell he wasn’t _actually_ a rat, and from somewhere deep inside the flat there was a lot of crying. 

Through it all, Peter stayed at his perch. 

Finally, the sky lightened. 

There were clunkings from what was presumably the kitchen, the smell of burnt toast streamed out of the window, and Peter’s animal nose picked up the sulphurous aroma of floo powder. That would be Sirius going to work, then. 

Time passed. More pedestrians emerged on the streets, more smells of cooking and coffee blending into the air from the other flats in the block. Peter was hungry. 

Eventually, Peter heard Remus’ voice again, joined by another. Harry’s. His target. 

All he had to do was follow them to Diagon Alley, get off one spell, and vanish into the crowd. Simple. 

Then Remus exclaimed in frustration and Harry replied with a slight whine: 

_“I don’t exactly go to a lot of formal functions out of your flat, Remus!”_

_“I- Fine, wear muggle clothes. But not anything with a logo.”_

The sounds of retreating feet, a sassy reply thrown back. 

_“They want my statement, not to offer me a job.”_

_“I heard that! Just hurry up, we’ll have to apparate now.”_

Peter’s tiny pulse increased. Apparition complicated things. Apparition meant they were skipping straight to the Ministry entrance, which meant no crowds, which meant- 

Peter was going to have to sneak into the Ministry with them. Gnashing his teeth, Peter wrapped his tail around the wand he’d stashed on the roof and scrambled down the side of the building.. Cautiously, he peeked in through the open window. Luckily, Remus’ back was to him. Harry hadn’t returned in his change of clothes. Now was Peter’s chance. 

A satchel rested at the foot of the sofa. Peter eyed it up, hoped fiercely Remus intended to take it with him, and _ran_. In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever crossed ground so quickly. By the time Remus had started at the movement in his periphery, Peter was burying himself and his wand in the canvas, wriggling under stray books, a water bottle, a jumper and tie to settle like a dead thing on the silt of pencil sharpenings at the bottom. 

As Peter got control of his heart again, Harry re-entered the room, sounding oddly contrite. Weird kid. 

Peter and the satchel were lifted, the window slammed shut, and then they were gone. 

The vortex of magic tugged at Peter, almost tearing, probing him painfully- like the wards, but ten times worse. He struggled bitterly to hang onto his animagus form for the entire time; when it was over, he was paralysed. 

Thankfully, the floo guard’s obstructions gave Peter enough time to get his breath back. More or less. 

Remus started to move. Peter scrambled against the gangle of objects in his bag, poking his nose out of the lip in the direction that stunk less of people. 

_Go_ he told himself sternly. He went, rolling his little rat body as he hit the ground, throwing himself flush against a faux-skirting board. Remus and Harry were the only people in sight, following someone around a corner. Refusing to let himself second-guess, Peter transformed and raised his wand in one smooth motion. 

Pointing squarely at the back of Harry’s head he whispered: “Confundus.” 


	8. When The Way You’re Treated Has Got You Good And Pissed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a bridge chapter, so I'm really sorry if it's got you bored out of your skull and thank you for bearing with it! Next chapter we're skipping forwards to the start of the Hogwarts term...

“I don’t know.” 

The auror on the right crossed his arms. He was a stringy older man with not much hair and bushy grey eyebrows who’d introduced himself as Southerton in a tone of voice that suggested the formality pained him. 

“You don’t know?” 

Harry clenched his fists, trying not to squirm. 

“I don’t know.” 

The aurors shared a glance. After a second of deliberation, Jephson - a plump, pretty woman with light brown skin- took the lead. 

“Are you sure?” 

He cleared his throat, conscious of Remus’ eyes boring into him. 

“Could you repeat the question, please?”

“Who cooked the dinner you ate on the night your mother died?” 

“It was- I mean I think it was-” Harry’s eyes widened. He knew the answer. He  _ knew  _ he knew the answer. The knowledge was there, a whisp darting about at the edge of his consciousness, taunting him in a familiar form but he just  _ couldn’t catch it _ . 

That wasn’t normal. 

“ _ Why can't I remember? _ " 

"Harry…” Remus said, warning fighting with concern. 

Jephson pursed her lips then conceded, begrudgingly “Trauma can do strange things to the brain. It’s possible that your mind has established a mental block to stop you thinking about-” 

“It’s  _ all  _ I think about.” Harry hissed “I’m  _ trying  _ to answer your questions. But it’s like- It’s like what I know is running away from me, and I can’t keep up, and it’s just blank instead, and the harder I try to remember the faster it dissolves, and-” 

Remus’ hand settled on Harry’s shoulder.  _ Follow me.  _

“Those are the classic symptoms of a confundus charm.” 

“A  _ confundus _ , eh?” Southeron spat, lips curling up over his yellowing teeth “And who would have done that?” 

Harry opened his mouth to bite back a reply, but Remus squeezed his shoulder in warning. 

“Not me. Someone who would be harmed by Harry’s testimony.” 

“Like his godfather?” 

Harry huffed, shocked. 

“You can’t be serious.  _ Sirius _ ?” 

Once again, more insistently, the hand on Harry’s shoulder tensed. 

“A skilled analyst should be able to detect any charms Harry is under, and to determine when they were cast. Is there someone in the building who could do it now?” 

Jephson scowled at both Remus and Harry, but whipped out her wand to summon a patronus. 

**** 

Tonks knew Harry had a penchant for getting himself into shit but  _ this _ , she thought, kicking the wall she leant against, was taking the mick. 

“Definitely a confundus.” Kingsley confirmed, withdrawing his wand from Harry’s temple with a grim expression “Cast within the last half hour. Sorry, Harry.” 

“Not your fault.” the boy sighed, summoning a polite smile. 

Well, that was better than the hissing-like-a-cornered-kitten vibe he’d had going on previously. 

Remus, on the other hand, did not seem to find the news pleasant. 

“The last half hour? Are you certain?” 

Kingsley nodded. 

“Then-” Remus’ expression darkened “It must have happened after we left home. And since we apparated- It must have happened within the Ministry’s walls.” 

Tonks’ foot stilled. No-one could miss the accusation hidden in those words- or the rage it invoked in Southerton, reflected more weakly in Jephson too. 

Quietly, Tonks positioned herself at Kingsely’s side, just behind Harry’s chair. Neither Remus nor the other aurors were likely to let the tension rise to confrontation, but you could never be too sure. 

“In which case,  _ Mr _ Lupin,” Southerton said, making clear what he thought of paying Remus any level of respect “If you would follow me, we need to ask you a few questions.” 

And the spitting-kitten Harry was back, looking on the verge of leaping over the table to duel Southerton for Remus’ honour. He’d make a good Hufflepuff, if Tonks did say so herself. 

She noted the displeasure in Kingsley’s face. 

“Of course.” Remus said, rising in tandem with Southerton. 

Jephson followed a beat later, casting a look towards Kingsely that clearly read ‘ _ direction, please!!! _ ’.

Kingsley gave it, instructing Jephson and Southerton to accompany Remus to Interview Room Three. He and Tonks would to stay where they were. 

The decrease in tension was palpable. Tonks sat down next to Harry.

“Not your week, is it?” she noted conversationally. 

Kingsley blanched, but Tonks knew Harry well enough from babysitting him and Neville at family functions that she wasn’t concerned. Sure enough, he snorted dryly. 

“Not many people’s week, the way Sirius and Remus are talking about it. Not,” he added hastily “That I’ve heard much.” 

“I’m sure.” Kingsley droned- and  _ yes _ , Tonks’ eyes did not deceive her, he was amused! 

Not that she could blame him for his hard exterior; she had tasted a little of working twice as hard for half the credit, but she suspected Kingsley had ingested a lot more. 

“So,” Kinglesy also sat down, waking up the charmed quill Southerton had been using with a flick of his wand “For formality’s sake, do you know who cast a confundus charm on you today?” 

“No.” 

“Do you have any suspicions?” 

Harry shrugged “Like Remus said, someone who doesn’t want my testimony to get out, right? So someone dodgy, I guess. A guest or, or a Ministry employee even- maybe under imperius, or a secret Death Eater. ” 

“Or blackmailed or bribed.” Tonks added before Kingsley could take issue with the insinuation that DMLE background checks  _ wouldn’t  _ uncover a Death Eater past. 

Pseudo-cousin solidarity, or whatever. 

Kingsley squinted briefly at Tonks in a way that would have made her quake a few months ago, but which she found oddly endearing now, and continued his questioning. 

“Since you can’t remember anything about the incident itself, can you think of anything out of the ordinary that you noticed in the weeks prior to it?” 

“I mean, she worked a lot of lates. But that wasn’t  _ super  _ new.” 

Kingsley’s eyes met hers; Tonks straightened. 

“Was Lily seeing anyone?” 

“What, romantically? I don’t think so, I made a joke about it and she turned it into a whole  _ lecture  _ about how I should trust her to let me know at a sensible moment if she had anything like that going on, and I should do the same, and,” Harry finished with a flourish of air quotes “condoms prevent more than pregnancy, so don’t just rely on potions.” 

Tonks had been subjected to any number of sex talks from her mum, from peers, from teachers (and thank heavens her Head of House was Professor Sprout, the only woman in Hogwarts who could keep a class straight-faced through repeated uses of the word ‘fertilisation’)...but it was the sex talk from Lily that had stuck with Tonks. Firstly, Lily had been the only one of the lot to acknowledge that Tonks might want to do the deed with a woman, though Lily herself didn’t have a lot of practical experience in the matter. Secondly, Lily had actually explained what STIs were and how to avoid them using, Tonks was fairly certain, some of the exact same phrases as Harry had got. Thirdly, Lily had explained- subtly, very far away from the hearing of Tonks’ mother- that certain things could be done to stop a pregnancy getting very far if you didn’t want it to. 

That was a very strange thing to think of at work, but she supposed it was natural for a grieving mind to catch on reminders of the role the deceased had occupied. 

Setting her heartache aside for later, Tonks tuned back in. 

“So you believe that something that wasn’t personal was preventing Lily from getting home at her usual time?” 

Harry nodded. 

“Did you ever ask what she was doing?” 

“Yeah. She told me that she couldn’t tell me yet.” 

“Did she say when she  _ was  _ going to?” 

“No.” 

“Did she say who she was doing it with?” 

“No. I thought-” Harry coloured slightly “I thought it might have been something to do with my birthday a couple of weeks ago ‘cos mum tends- tended to get really into making presents a surprise, but it wasn’t. And I also thought it might’ve been something she was doing with my uncles, but they’d’ve mentioned it, wouldn’t they?” 

“Probably.” Tonks said, at same time as Kingsley nodded “Definitely.” 

She glared at him. Kingsley executed the most minute shrug Tonks had ever seen and said, with the vaguest whiff of smugness “Black would have mentioned it to  _ me _ .” 

In her periphery, Tonks noticed Harry stifling a laugh. 

The door opened. Speak of the devil. 

“Sirius.” Kingsley said sternly “I thought I told you not to get involved.” 

“I’m not!” Sirius protested, nodding his head at the hand which was yet to release the door handle “I’ve just come to say we’ve heard from forensics that they’ll be opening the crime scene within the day.” 

“Right.” Kingsley rose “We’ll have one last walk-about. Tonks, try to keep Harry here out of trouble until Lupin can deal with him.” 

“Aye, aye.” 

Kingsley looked at her in deep despair. She looked back at him with big, not-so-innocent eyes. Literally- she’d morphed her eyes to take up nearly half her face. 

Kinsley gestured at Harry. 

“ _ He’s _ more mature than you.” 

“Don’t bet on it,” Sirius cut in, amused “They’re as bad as each other.” 

“Let’s just leave.” Kingsley sighed. 

With a jaunty wave from Sirius, they were gone. 

“If they’re opening the crime scene, does that mean I can go home soon?” Harry asked into the sudden stillness. 

“I reckon.” Tonks nodded. 

“Good. ‘Cos I think that’s where we’re going to hold the wake. And I really need a change of clothes.” 

****

Two doors down, Remus stared at his interrogators in horror. 

“I don’t believe you have the authority to do that.” 

“I have the authority to do whatever is necessary to ensure the integrity of this institution.” Southerton replied staunchly. 

“We  _ are _ only able to impose temporary prohibitions.” Jephson reminded her partner, gauging him from the corner of her eye “But, yes, we do have the authority to do that.” 

“Right. Am I free to leave?” 

“Yes, and-” 

“-Don’t come back for six months.” 

Jephson gave Southerton a slightly perturbed look, but Remus simply got up. He knew from experience that it wouldn’t do well to remain near the source of the anger, resentment, and humiliation broiling in his head longer than he could help. Not to mention the fact that it  _ definitely  _ wouldn’t reflect well on either he or Sirius if a passing legilimens was to pick up on the fact that he was partially frustrated because his plans for espionage had been thwarted. 

At least Harry hopped up fairly cheerfully when he came to collect him, though he noticed immediately that Remus was in a bad mood. 

“What’s the matter?” 

Remus glanced at Tonks; there was no point hiding it. He smiled bitterly at them both “I’ve been banned from entering the Ministry until February next year.” 


	9. I’d Listen To Her ‘Cause I Know How It Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: the pensive flashback contains extensive discussion of sexual harassment, and the possibly perceived threat of sexual assault 
> 
> Also if the formatting of the pensive scene is confusing, please let me know and I will endeavour to find a better way!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

The Hogwarts Express was tearing through the landscape, the green fens and forests of Scotland a comforting undulating blur as they drew ever nearer to the castle. Harry leant his head against the window. Powerful vibrations rocked his skull, the industrial roar of the wheels increasing tenfold the moment his skull touched glass.  _ Muggle ingenuity  _ he thought with a flicker of pride. He and Hermione were the only ones in their friend group who actually knew how a piston worked. 

Speaking of friends, Harry's seemed to be feeling only a fraction of the excitement and anticipation they should have. Maybe it was the lingering memory of the last time they'd sat together- on the floor of Harry's room in the flat after Lily's funeral, for once in their lives truly subdued. Or maybe it was just the fact that they'd  _ already  _ had a confrontation with Draco Malfoy and his goons. 

No sooner had Harry’s trainer made contact with the inside of the train carriage than his nemesis was there, sticking the frankly defamatory  _ Prophet  _ report of Lily's death in Harry's face and leering "Mother meet her magical match, did she, Potter?" 

There had been a moment of shocked silence. Then Ginny lunged; Harry caught her round the middle before she could get far. 

" _ What? _ " She spat "Did you not  _ hear  _ what he said?" 

"Yes, I did." Harry bit, glowering at the platinum blonde git "But I've already worried my uncles enough in the past month. I don't need a detention on the first day." 

"Fine." Ginny straightened "I'll leave it.  _ For now. _ " 

Draco winked and sauntered off, triumph in his gait. 

"That was low even for you!" Neville called after him, voice quivering in anger. 

Lily had been like an aunt to him. 

Hermione shook her head, lips curled. 

"Nothing's too low for him. Come on," she grabbed a fistful of Harry's shirt and pulled him backwards "Let's find Luna." 

"Don't worry, once we tell Fred and George what happened they'll beat him off his broom in quidditch, first chance they get." Ron vowed, following after "And that's if I don't get there first." 

Harry had smiled and let himself be drawn into chatter about O.W.L.S and the Welcome Feast and how diabolical the History of Magic summer essay was. 

But there was only so far those topics could take them, which brought them to now, Harry's head against the window in a near-silent compartment. 

Stuff that. 

"Right." Harry clapped his hands together, making Neville jump "Cards. Three rounds. Loser buys a round of butterbeer first Hogsmeade trip." 

"I have cards," Luna offered, emerging from her copy of  _ Creatures Weekly Illustrated  _ "Though they may have been cursed by pixies." 

"That just makes them more exciting." Harry smiled. 

Luna put her magazine aside and handed the deck over, eyes shining in anticipation. 

**** 

“How do you think the kids are getting on?” Alice mused, elbows deep in one of the boxes they’d hauled out of Brewer Lane’s cavernous attic. 

“Well, hopefully they’re absolutely stuffing their faces right at this very minute.” Remus responded, smiling in amusement at the babygrow he’d extracted from a box marked  _ Misc.  _

“And hopefully they’re having more luck than we are finding these damn phials!” Sirius added, lounging aristocratically on the floor and not really doing anything to help locate the aforesaid damn phials. 

That was, until Sirius casually slipped his wand out of his pocket and intoned in a voice of sheer boredom “Accio phials.” 

“ _ Siri- _ ” Remus started to scold him; then he was suddenly very preoccupied with dodging a flying hunk of wood. 

“Jesus!” Alice exclaimed, a habit which she had most definitely picked up from Lily “Trying to off your man, too?” 

“Too?” 

Remus shook his head subtly; usually Alice didn't' mind if they needed a little prodding to keep up with her train of thought, but it seemed cruel to point out her memory problems when she was already risking exacerbating them by helping them sort through Lily’s things, looking for the items cited in her will. 

Sirius frowned but let the moment pass, grinning sheepishly at Remus “Sorry, dear.” 

“Be subtler next time.” 

Predictably, Sirius began to grin manically. Thankfully, Alice saved them all from a long description of all the  _ subtle  _ things Sirius would like to do to Remus by shuffling on her knees over to the trunk that had nearly ended his life and flipping it open. 

“Wow,” she whispered appreciatively “Lils really went  _ in _ for the memory thing.” 

Creaking, Remus stood up to peer over her shoulder. 

Alice was right: the trunk was full to the brim with pensive phials, arranged in custom built racks labelled with small cards:  _ Mum and Dad, Good Things At Hogwarts, Harry’s Firsts, Private, Relevant _ ...

Remus really had to bemoan Lily’s sporadic commitment to organisation. If she only applied herself, their job today would have been so much easier. 

“ _ Relevant _ ’s a strange category.” Sirius commented “Relevant to what?” 

“The ink on that label’s newer, too.” Alice added. You can take the auror out of a job, but not the job out of the auror, apparently. 

“You believe those memories might have something to do with the murder?” 

“It’s possible.” Sirius confirmed. 

“Well.” Remus’ throat became dry all of a sudden “That’s something to investigate later.” 

Alice closed the trunk. 

**** 

It was around half ten that evening by the time they worked their way around to the trunk of pensive phials again, having decided over dinner that (motivated by more nostalgia than Sirius would like to admit) they should take a phial from the  _ Hogwarts  _ collection and test it.

It couldn’t have been anything Lily wouldn’t have told them already, right? 

“What about this one?” Alice suggested. 

Sirius took the long, delicate phial carefully, flipping over the tag tied securely to its neck. Remus hooked his chin over Sirius’ shoulder to read, the vibration of his voice tingling warmly. 

“ _ Early Sixth Year with James _ . Delightfully nonspecific.”

Sirius smirked “I reckon it’s the Hogsmeade trip where they disappeared for-”

“It’s not,” Alice interrupted, eyebrow arched “That one would  _ definitely  _ be in the private collection.” 

They gaped at her. After a moment, Alice’s lips began to twitch. 

“Are you joking?” Sirius prodded “Or did they  _ actually _ have s-” 

“Ask me no questions, I tell you no lies. Or do I?” 

“Well, what’s one more mystery?” Remus laughed, detaching himself from Sirius’ back and plucking the phial out of his hands “Let’s give this thing a try.” 

Obediently, the other two trooped after him into Lily’s bedroom of all places, where her pensive cabinet stood incongruously in the corner opposite the bed. It was a bit of a kerfuffle to arrange themselves so that all three of their heads fit in the pensive, but they managed. Unanimously, they paused with their noses inches from the liquid. A faint, powdery smell tickled Sirius’ nostrils. 

“On three?” Alice suggested. 

Then, without waiting for their assent, “Three.” 

Sirius snorted and followed suit. 

In the blink of an eye he was somewhere else.

****

_ Hogwarts Castle. The east wing, just outside the Prefect’s Office, Lily Evans propping up the heavy oak door in her school uniform. Early summer evening sun filtered in through the long windows at the end of the corridor, muting Lily’s red locks and blurring the acne crawling up the side of her face. She itched at it, gazing down the corridor pensively.  _

“This is so strange.” Remus said. 

“Mental.” Alice concurred. 

Sirius hummed. Part of him was glad to see this skinny, slouching teenage Lily instead of the woman he remembered. It made the loss seem less immediate. Remus slipped his hand into Sirius’. 

_ Suddenly, Lily straightened. Footsteps rang out down the corridor, approaching rapidly. Seconds later, James Potter rounded the corner with mussed hair, no tie, and a wide, toothy grin.  _

Suddenly Sirius felt the need to check himself for stab wounds.  _ Merlin _ , if he hadn’t forgotten how much he loved the bastard. 

_ “What are you doing here?” Lily demanded, eyes narrowed “I have to patrol.”  _

_ “Exactly,” James winked “I’m standing in for Remus.”  _

_ “Where is he?”  _

_ “Indisposed.” James replied enigmatically.  _

“Where were you?” Alice wondered “It’s not a full moon.” 

“If this is the time I think it is, someone who I shan’t name spilt an entire box of itching powder down the back of my robes.” 

“Oops?” 

_ “Hmm.” Lily seemed to deliberate for a moment, then glanced outside at the rapidly fading light. She smiled thinly.  _

_ “Come on, then.”  _

_ She strode off, robes fluttering after her, rounding the corner in silence as James started in on a stream of affable (admittedly egoistic) chatter.  _

_ Abruptly, the corridor melted and reformed. They were deeper in the castle now, path lit by flickering orange flames. Lily had slowed down, but was keeping a considerable distance between herself and James. While her eyes were fixed straight ahead, James’ kept flicking down to the wand clutched loosely in Lily’s hand.  _

_ Sirius, still fluent in James, pinpointed the exact second he decided to say something. _

_ “Are you scared?”  _

_ Lily’s head whipped around “I’m a Gryffindor!”  _

_ “Doesn’t mean you can’t be scared.” James shrugged.  _

_ Her face slackened for a millisecond. Unable to dispute the logic, Lily amended: “Well, I’m not scared.”  _

_ “Are you sure? You’ve had your wand out from the start.”  _

_ “Oh. That.” Lily shrugged “Habit.”  _

_ “Habit?” James frowned, drawing to a halt which Lily seemed slightly miffed to find herself obeying “What could you habitually need to use a wand for in the middle of the night at Hogwarts?”  _

_ “Don’t  _ you _ have a few answers for that?”  _

_ “Heh.” James choked, probably blushing.  _

_ Lily recoiled. _

_ “What?”  _

_ “I just…” Lily winced, looking as if she was cursing herself for ever developing the ability to speak “It’s a habit to make sure I have something with me when I’m alone at night, alright? Wand, keys, whatever. Most women do.”  _

_ James bit his lip, hazel eyes darting over Lily’s face seriously.  _

“He really does look like Harry sometimes, doesn’t he?” Alice muttered. 

Sirius smiled; Harry might be pleased to hear that someone had claimed him as the original, not his dad. 

The smile slipped from Sirius’ face as the sixteen-year-old James continued. 

_ “Did something happen to you?”  _

_ “I don’t think it’s really your place to ask.”  _

_ “So something  _ did _ happen? Who was it?” James pressed, stepping into Lily’s space.  _

_ Bad move. The tip of Lily’s wand was between his eyes in seconds.  _

_ “I won’t think twice about hexing you.” she told him coolly.  _

_ Jaw on the floor, James stepped carefully back. His brows knit together, openly hurt. For a second, Lily’s wand hung between them. Then she lowered her arm.  _

_ James was still gaping.  _

_ “Why?”  _

_ “Why?” Lily repeated; then her expression softened by a degree “You really don’t have any female friends, do you?”  _

_ James shrugged guiltily.  _

_ “Sev didn’t, apart from me.”  _

_ James didn’t exactly seem pleased by the comparison, but he let her continue.  _

_ “Alright. We’re going to have a deep conversation and you’re going to act like a human being.”  _

Remus snorted, dissolving into a full giggle as James nodded enthusiastically.

_ “First off, you’re not my favourite person in the world and you can be quite obnoxious sometimes, but I didn’t think you were going to sexually assault me. I couldn’t absolutely rule the possibility out, though.”  _

_ James paled; Lily sighed deeply.  _

_ “You’ve been cornering me, publicly  _ and _ when I’m alone, and asking me out for the past six years. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you ‘no’, but you keep doing it. You’ve been violently assaulting Severus for just as long. I’ve heard how Pettigrew and Black talk about women-”  _

“I’ve reformed!” Sirius said quickly. Just to clear the air. 

_ “That’s not me doing it, though!” James almost whined.  _

_ “But it’s who you hang around with.” Lily refuted sternly “And you’re always acting like you have some kind of  _ claim  _ on me, or…”  _

_ She trailed off, throwing her hands up in frustration.  _

_ “What I’m trying to say is that when you turned up out of the blue wanting to walk around an empty castle with me at night, it put me on edge. If you’re a woman you  _ have  _ to be on edge, in that kind of situation. I’m not saying it’s not wise to be, as a man, or that a man couldn’t get attacked the same way, but you know what I mean.”  _

_ James crossed his arms, toying at the elbows of his robes “Do I?”  _

_ “It’s-” Lily gestured helplessly “How old were you when you first got wolf-whistled? Not as a joke.”  _

_ He spoke carefully, like the words were picking a path through a bog of kappas “I don’t think I ever have.”  _

_ “Me? Twelve.”  _

Sirius’ gut twisted. Alice’s mouth was pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t seem surprised. He supposed that was the sort of thing that came up, when Lily and Alice would talk alone at night. 

_ James’ mouth opened, closed, opened again.  _

_ “By another twelve-year-old?”  _

_ “By an adult man. And I know girls who’ve had the same thing, younger.”  _

“I forget people can be surprised at that,” Alice commented wryly “He looks horrified.” 

_ “Godric’s balls.” James finally mustered “And I’ve been doing the same thing?”  _

_ For reasons known only to herself, Lily’s shoulders relaxed.  _

_ “Something along those lines, yes.”  _

_ James’ nails dug deeper into the fabric of his robes and he almost bit his tongue off in his haste to reply.  _

_ “I am- I am so sorry, Evans. I didn’t- I never would have- It won’t happen again. And I’ll talk to Peter and Sirius, too. I won’t mention it was you who brought me onto it, I’ll say it was an article I read or something. Is Remus alright about it? I know you know he-”  _

_ “Potter,” Lily laughed, eyes sparkling for the first time in their exchange “All of those things sound wonderful, but you need to breathe.”  _

_ James nodded, unlatching his hands from his elbows to run them through his hair sheepishly.  _

_ “Sorry. That was a bad reaction.”  _

_ “Actually…” Lily said, considering “it was good.”  _

_ James frowned “Was it?”  _

_ “You empathised, didn’t get defensive, recognised your wrongs, genuinely apologised, and identified a way to help. Plus,” Lily rocked up and down on her heels, something almost akin to coyness tugging at the corner of her lip “if you stop asking me out I might stop actively avoiding you, and then who  _ knows _ what could happen.”  _

_ James almost literally leapt for joy “You want to be friends?”  _

_ “I wouldn’t be opposed to trying to get to know you better.” Lily hedged.  _

_ For a long, clinging moment the two teens just stood and looked at each other. Then Lily glanced down the corridor and gestured awkwardly for them to start walking again. _

The spectators waited for the scene to melt again, but it didn’t. Shrugging, they followed after. 

_ “So,” James asked between the hollow tapping of their feet against the flagstones, using the tone of voice he had convinced himself was ‘cool’ “What’s brought this on? I was an arrogant toerag last year.” _

_ “You still are,” Lily responded confidently “But I had a lot of time to think over summer about how people act and who they are, how sometimes that is the same thing and sometimes it isn’t. And I think I’ve decided that you’re a twat, but you’re also acting at being who you want to be just as much as I am; and this year, you seem to want to be a better person.”  _

_ “Well,” James said, a little breathless “I had a lot of time to think over summer, too. About what you yelled that day by the lake, when Sni- Snape called you a you-know-what.”  _

_ “I actually managed to take you down a peg? Also: that was  _ not  _ me yelling.”  _

_ James huffed, amused “If that wasn’t yelling, I would hate to get even further onto your bad side. And no pegs were taken.”  _

_ Lily shook her head “If that’s what helps you sleep at night. Now, we have an hour of rounds left, but-” _

Sirius spluttered, summarily ejected from the pensive and consequently covered in a fine, powdery dew. Beside him, Remus scrunched up his nose in distaste, while Alice was rubbing at her face with her t-shirt. When she emerged, she was smiling. 

“James Potter had a heart. Who knew?” 

“ _ We _ did.” Sirius said gruffly. 

Remus nodded in agreement. 

Surveying them, Alice’s gaze softened from a sharp jab of amusement into something more maternal. Given Alice was only six years older than them that should have been somewhat insulting but he’d seen Alice give the same look to her husband’s mother when her back was turned, so Sirius didn’t think anyone could escape. 

“Call it a day?” she suggested. 

“Definitely.” 

It was very nearly ticking into the 2nd. 

Just Sirius and Remus, hand in hand, were about to floo back to their flat, Alice caught his arm. 

“I know the pensive was left to you two, but I’m sure Lily wouldn’t mind if I looked at it as well, would she?” 

“Not at all.” Remus reassured her. 

“Good.” Alice nodded “When you decide to go through those ‘relevant’ ones, let me know. I’ll try to be there.” 

“It’s a date.” Sirius winked, and they were gone. 


	10. Rumour Has It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! It's mostly bc I've been taking time to plan subsequent chapters like some kinda organised person.
> 
> Also: I made Hermione a Slytherin mostly bc I was wanted to inject a bit of diversity in houses etc but also bc to me it would totally make sense for her to be in Slytherin - the fundamental drive of her character is 'Do Brilliantly Academically and Change The World For The Better' which sounds p ambitious to me. And ambition isn't an inherently bad thing! Of course, she is very brave and chivalrous (in a more modern way), so I'm imagining her to have had to choose between Slytherin and Gryffindor as part of the sorting the same way Harry did. In fact, I plan to write a ficlet in this universe about Hermione and Harry becoming friends over their shared experience of having to choose between two houses that everyone seems convinced are diametrically opposed. 
> 
> Again, this is a bit of a 'I've never actually written a murder mystery before but I think this kinda thing happens' chapter, so feel free to let me know if the narrative is dragging or getting confusing or anything like that! Enjoy!

Harry snuggled down under the voluminous duvet of his bed in Gryffindor Tower, glad to end a long day involving the receipt of a variety of awkward condolences and the consumption of a spectacular Welcome Feast. 

_Mother meet her magical match?_

The words floated across his brain unbidden; he fumbled with them lethargically. 

It was a strange insult. Even stranger was the fact that Draco had the issue of the _Daily Prophet_ that had reported Lily’s death, given it was two weeks out of date. Had he brought it with him specifically to torment Harry? 

_Meet her magical match…_

Almost like he meant-

Harry bolted upright, any hint of sleepiness abandoned in a moment. 

“Shit! Fuck, fucking-”

“Harry?” 

“It’s fine,” Harry told the room at large, wrestling his way roughly out of the heavy drapes surrounding the bed “Just forgot to tell someone something really, really important.” 

Ron’s pale face peeked out at him from the next bed over, ginger brows knit together, but Harry didn’t pay him any mind, single-mindedly focussed on scrawling a note to his uncles. He folded the parchment impatiently, muttered the basic privacy charm his mum had taught him when he was twelve and Ginny went through a phase of attempting to steal his letters, then shoved open the window. 

At least two of his bunkmates groaned; Harry glanced at Ron, who had predictably fallen asleep again before even shutting his curtains. Smirking, he stuck his head out of the window and whistled. 

It took a minute, but sure enough Hedgwig came, gliding through the air as gracefully as a ballerina. With a small flutter of feathers, she perched on the cool stone windowsill and cocked her head curiously. 

“Good girl.” Harry smiled, stroking her beak “I’ve got a special note for you to deliver. Think you can get it to Sirius and Remus by the end of tomorrow?” 

Preening, Hedgwig stuck out her leg. When he finished tying the note securely, Harry quickly fished about in his bedside table to give her a treat. She took it with an affectionate nip and, in a flurry of speckled white, soared away. Harry closed the window with a thud, suddenly tired again. 

“I’m going to ring your feckin’ bird’s neck.” Seamus groused, thoroughly woken. A beat later, he apologised. 

Harry rolled his eyes and climbed back into bed. 

**** 

“When,” Tonks laughed, eyeing the noticeboard in Remus’ cupboard of a study eagerly “When you said you had notes, you really weren’t kidding.” 

Remus’ lips quirked; Sirius’ reaction had been strikingly similar to his cousin’s. 

“It’s useful.” 

“ _Yes_ , but,” Tonks paused to gulp her coffee ardently “Do you _actually_ believe that’s how we work? We just stick it all on a board and connect it with strings?” 

“ _Obviously_ not!” 

Remus winced. 

“Sorry. That was uncalled for.” 

“No harm, no foul.” Tonks shrugged. 

_Great start,_ Remus thought. 

Thankfully, Sirius broke the awkwardness with a breezy “Well, let’s get on with it. Recap time.” 

“Right. Suspects,” Remus started “Cloaked figure seen leaving Brewer’s Lane, shifty fellow trying to collect Lily’s things from the potion lab, whoever confundus’d Harry.” 

“ _Cowardly bastard._ ” 

“Thank you for that input.” 

Tonks quirked an eyebrow “Southerton and Jephson?” 

“What?” 

“ _Bastardly cowards_.” 

“Don’t forget bigots.” Remus added mildly. 

“Southeron and Jephson,” Tonks repeated pointedly, though she was nodding along with their assessment “Because they could have banned Remus from the Ministry out of run-of-the-mill stupidity, or they coulda’ been collaborating with another person.” 

“Point.” 

Remus added the word ‘collaborators’ with a question mark to the board. 

“Crimes.” Sirius took over “Killing Lily, being shifty, ambushing my godson-” 

“More of a covert spelling, you can’t be so old they’ve changed the terminology since you trained.”

“Fine. _Covertly spelling_ a fifteen-year-old. Unjustly, cruelly, and with no sound basis-” 

“Sirius-” 

“Banning a law abiding-” 

“Not _that_ la-” 

“ _Mostly_ law abiding, tax-paying citizen of magical Britain from the Ministry who are meant to be protecting him, using Merlin only knows _what_ kind of illegal potion, and, er-” 

“Breaking and entering.” 

“Right. That’s a lot of crimes for only one suspect.” 

Tonks nodded, hair rippling a studious powder blue “What do you boys think about McShifty and covert speller as the same person, and Not-Death Eater as breaking and entering. Possibly also poisoning.” 

Sirius crossed his arms; Remus had not been awake long enough to ignore the way his soft pyjama shirt pulled across his chest. 

“That implies a third party.” 

“The potion supplier, and possibly orchestrator.” Tonks agreed “Remus, if you’re gonna oggle an auror at least go for the hot one.” 

Remus refused to be sassed by a twenty-three-year-old. 

“You’re right. I’m straight now.” 

“Happy to be of service.” 

“Can I just mention-” 

There was a tapping at the window. 

“Is that the _Prophet_?” Tonks asked absently, focussed on the board. 

“No, it’s-” Sirius opened the window “Hedwig?” 

“Harry’s owl? They’ve only been at Hogwarts a night.” 

Nodding, Remus darted to where Sirius stood. With sharp, efficient movements Sirius unlocked the privacy charm and unfolded the scrap of parchment: 

_To Sirius (and Remus, if you read this),_

_Malfoy said something to me on the train: mother meet her magical match, did she? It seemed weird, so I kept thinking about it, then I realised: when_ _mum was_ _it was happening mum knew what the poison was and she said_ _it only effects muggleborns_ _.I dunno if Draco knew it only effected muggleborns or if he was saying mum died cos she was bad at magic, or if he just guessed or something. But if he did know maybe his dad told him? He’s awful at potions. Anyway, it only effects muggleborns and I_ _swear_ _I only just realised I never told anyone!_ _Sorry!!_ _Night,_

_Love from Harry_

_P.S I wanted to punch Malfoy but I didn’t, and I even stopped Ginny pummeling him._

Remus inhaled slowly. 

“If Harry wasn’t Harry I would wring his neck. _How_ exactly is that information he could forget?” 

“To be fair to him,” Sirius said, practically vibrating on the spot in a way strikingly similar to that of a Yorkshire terrier with a squirrel in its sight “I think he _remembered_ it.” 

“What did he remember?” 

“This,” Sirius replied grandly, passing the parchment over with a flourish “And we might even have a new person of interest.” 

Tonks grinned sharply, scanning over the missive with startling speed. 

“Looks like waking up early isn’t entirely useless after all.” 

**** 

Harry yawned deeply. Hermione, who was in Slytherin but had been accepted as a fixture at the Gryffindor table in about second year, frowned at him over a piece of toast. 

“Did you, you know, sleep well?” 

“Oh, yeah, you?” 

Hermione looked at him. Harry looked back at her, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses when Hermione didn’t seem inclined to shift her gaze elsewhere. 

Ginny, flanking Hermione’s left, rolled her eyes. 

“She means did you have any nightmares or anything.” 

“Oh.” Harry didn’t know whether to be touched or chafe at the concern “I was fine. Thanks?” 

Further along the bench, Harry could have sworn he heard a distinctly Fred-like snort. 

_Great._

“He leapt up in the night screaming bloody murder, though.” 

“Thought he’d gone bonkers.” Neville confirmed. 

“Well-” Harry shovelled a heaped forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. 

They were very nice scrambled eggs as well, soft and buttery; he missed constantly having eggs for breakfast, because his mum never let him have them more than twice a week during the holidays. 

He looked up again. Nobody looked amused. 

Ron’s elbow went on holiday into his ribs. 

“Okay!” Harry protested “I remembered that I hadn’t told Sirius an important fact about my mum’s death, so I sent him a note. Figured that would be quicker than trying to contact the DMLE.” 

Frowning, Hermione absently slipped a navy scrunchy from her wrist and wrestled her afro into it. 

“But you already gave an interview, if it was _that_ important, why didn’t you mention it then?” 

“Oh. That. So here’s the thing-” 

“Oh dear.” 

“I didn’t mention this earlier, but I couldn’t actually _give_ that interview…” Harry trailed off. Was he meant to tell anyone that? Didn’t it break codes of investigative secrecy or something? 

“What happened?” Ron urged. 

When Harry’s internal crisis persisted, Ron turned to Neville, who shrugged. Harry, for his part, was wishing fervently for Luna to materialise and say something insightful but esoteric that Hermione and Ron would then spend the day bickering over, saving Harry from having to say another word until tomorrow. 

Ginny kicked him under the table. Harry wondered if a propensity for casual violence was inherited genetically, and if so which of the Weasleys passed it on to their children. 

“ _Alright_ ,” Harry said, very casually “I somehow got confundus’d so I couldn’t remember anything.” 

“You _what_?” 

Harry winced. Hermione could be shrill when she wanted to be, and now half of Gryffindor were staring at them. When they didn’t immediately break out into a domestic the majority lost interest, but Harry could tell they still had the twins’ attention. 

_Fine_. 

“Got confundus’d. Couple of aurors accused Remus of doing it, and he got banned from the Ministry for forever. Not literally. Six months. Still sucks.” 

“Can’t leave you alone for five bloody minutes, mate.” Ron marvelled. 

Harry shrugged again. He could feel his cheeks colouring under the attention. 

“Do you think the person who did it-” 

“Later.” Harry cut in “I don’t know how much I’m allowed to say.” 

“Because you always follow the rules.” Ron deadpanned. 

“I didn’t say I _wouldn’t_ tell you! Just not here.” 

“Fine by me.” Ron shrugged. 

They went back to their breakfasts for a moment or two. Then Neville glanced up at the head table and paled; Harry followed his gaze to find Professor Umbridge, new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher and Head of Slytherin, eyeing them with great distaste. The back of Harry’s neck prickled. 

"I know Dumbledore must have had a good reason to hire her," Hermione mumbled "But…"

The Gryffindors leant forwards. It wasn't unheard of for Hermione to pass potent judgement on teachers she deemed inadequate, but to be outright suspicious of one… 

"What have you heard?" 

"Nothing much." Hermione lowered her voice conspiratorially "It's just that Draco was going on and _on_ about it in the common room last night. Apparently his dad knows her, so he's _sure_ she'll be amazing. But this morning I looked her up in the chocolate frog catalogue -" 

Ron snorted, but Hermione ignored him with practiced ease.

"-and she doesn't even have an entry." 

"Teachers don't have to be famous to be good, though." Neville pointed out. 

"Or famous 'cos they're good." Ron added, looking like he was reliving his (accidental) exposure of Gilderoy Lockhart as a conman with great satisfaction. 

"I _know_ that," Hermione tutted "But it made me wonder. So I asked Madame Prince what she knew about it-" 

"Ballsy." 

"- and she said Umbridge works for the Ministry and asked for a job here _on top of_ that. It was getting close to the deadline to choose a teacher so Dumbledore said yes." 

"Why would she ask to be a teacher if she already had a job?" Ginny wondered. 

Any theories they might have had were cut off by the ringing of the bell. 

Harry drained the last of his pumpkin juice, abruptly quite excited. Not that he'd ever tell Ron that. 

"What have we got first?" 

A rustle of paper, then: "DADA." 

  
  



	11. We Don't Need No Thought Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco Malfoy is a very interesting study in indoctrination and culpability. Umbridge is straight up a dictator in the making. I am clearly not that good at editing bc I said Tonks was Sirius' niece last chapter, and have been spelling 'muggleborn'/'muggle-born' with startling inconsistency this entire fic. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy Umbridge being a bitch as much as I enjoyed writing her being a bitch!

Unfortunately, Professor Umbridge entirely failed to exceed their expectations. 

“Bollocks.” Ron breathed in an undertone as they rounded the corner to see her waiting outside the classroom with her small hands folded primly over her fuchsia-covered stomach.

“ _ Good _ morning,” Umbridge crooned “Gryffindor boys please sit in the front left quarter, Slytherin girls in the back right.” 

Smiling very thinly, they passed her cloying scent to enter a classroom utterly changed. Normally, the walls were lined with instructional posters and shields, and the desks were arranged to create a space at the front for demonstrations. Now, the walls were bare and the practice space had been replaced by wide gulfs separating four blocks of desk. Seamus and Dean had already sat down in the Gryffindor boys’ section, the Pavarti twins looking unnerved in the block behind, while Pansy Parkinson glowered at Hermione as she joined the other Slytherin girls.

“This isn’t encouraging.” Harry whispered, dismayed. 

Judging by the faces of the other students who streamed in from breakfast, the majority shared his sentiments. It was gratifying to see that the discontented Slytherins did not hold back from glaring at Umbridge’s advocate, though Draco did nothing but toss his head haughtily in return. When every desk was filled, the door slammed closed. It kicked up a wave of nervous tittering like dust. 

“ _ Quiet!” _

They shut up. 

With a sustained creak almost as grating as Umbridge’s voice, the doors swung open again. Their teacher smiled at them beatically. Faced with nothing but dumb confusion in return, her brows furrowed into bemused disappointment. 

“Is it no longer the custom to stand when a professor enters?” 

Instinctively, half of the class glanced at Hermione. She was already speaking, hand raised. 

“No, miss.” 

“‘No,  _ Professor Umbridge _ ’, please.” she snapped. 

Hermione slowly lowered her hand; Umbridge was smiling again. 

“Well, I should like very much for you to bring the custom back just for me, if you will. I always feel the traditional way has merits that can easily be forgotten in our fascination with modernity.” 

_ Fascination with modernity?  _ Harry would take a bet that there was a wizard somewhere in Britain who still didn’t know the lightbulb had been invented. 

“Up!” 

Grudgingly, accompanied by a symphony of scraping chairs, the class rose. 

“Sit down!” Umbridge sang, still planted in the doorway “We’ll try that again, shall we?” 

And so they did.  _ Five times _ , with feedback after each attempt. By the end of it, Harry was beginning to wonder whether Umbridge had Voldemort strapped to the back of her head feeding her evil plans. By the time she was satisfied, almost half the lesson had passed. Harry was almost relieved when she started placing parchments face-down on their desks; that was, until she kindly asked them to put their textbooks away. 

“Now,” Umbridge began with the air of someone who has just completed a mammoth task “Before we turn our papers over, are any of you able to answer  _ this _ question:  _ what _ is the most effective defense against the Dark Arts?” 

Silence. 

Fighting back a sense of foreboding, Harry raised his hand. 

“Yes?” 

“Prevention.” 

“What was that? You must be old enough to speak in sentences.” 

Harry grit his teeth “The most effective defense against the Dark Arts is prevention.” 

It was a maxim that had been driven into Harry practically from the word  _ go _ . It was also, apparently, the wrong answer. 

Pink hat quivering, Umbridge shook her head in faux regret. 

“Well, wouldn’t that be  _ lovely _ ? Sadly, we do not live in such a world. No, the best defense against the Dark Arts is to call them to the attention of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who will then send a qualified and trusted wizard to dispense with the issue.  _ Now _ , I would like you to use the remainder of this lesson to complete the worksheet I have given you. You may  _ not  _ work in pairs or converse.  _ Begin. _ ” 

Desperately hoping they were being pranked, Harry flipped his parchment over. 

It was a cursed item reporting slip. Options for each of the information fields had been penned in in green ink, and a carmine header instructed the student to circle the most appropriate one. 

It was humiliating, useless, benign- Helplessly, Harry glanced to his side. Ron and Neville were staring at their parchment looking equally as nonplussed. 

“Eyes down.” 

_ Grades down, more like _ . Harry would never claim to be an exceptional student, which was probably an eternal disappointment to Lily and Remus, but he at least liked to  _ attempt  _ a challenge. And he did, in fact, need to reach a certain level of attainment if he had any hope of becoming an auror. Not that he’d told his mum or uncles about that particular career ambition yet. 

Not like he’d  _ ever  _ get to tell his mum…

Harry picked up his quill and started circling. 

As if to admit to the farce, Umbridge didn’t even read out the answers at the end. 

**** 

After Defense came herbology. Harry was awful at herbology, which had inspired many a half-joking rant from his mum about the amount of money he was going to have to spend  _ buying  _ potions ingredients he could easily cultivate in a herb garden, but on that particular day he was immensely glad for it. Anything to get away from the woman who had single-handedly ruined his favourite subject, not to mention the fact that Professor Sprout let them chat as they repotted plants and raked deep furrows into the troughs of earth dominating the centre of the greenhouse.

“...it’s like she thinks we’re  _ five _ !” Ron spat, ending a five-minute long rant with an incredibly aggressive drag of the rake. 

From the workbench, Harry rolled his eyes. 

“She probably does. Did you  _ hear  _ what she was going on about? She’s probably, like...a time-traveller who’s escaped from the Victorian era, or something.” 

“Yeah.” Ron agreed, grinning “And she can’t get back, so she’s trying to turn the modern day into the Victorian era instead.” 

“Exactly!” 

“ _ And  _ she wasted half of the lesson making us stand up and sit down like...like jack-in-the-boxes!” Hermione chipped in, demonstrating aptly that her inability to wrangle plants was on par with Harry’s when her root wriggled out of her hands and hopped away. 

The only reason either of them had chosen O.W.L Herbology was to avoid Divination. 

“Plus, she was dead mean to you and Harry.” Neville added loyally, gently scooping up the escaped root and transferring it to a pre-prepared pot without even blinking at the interruption “Just ‘cos she’s a teacher doesn’t give her an excuse to be rude.” 

“Totally!” Harry nodded, really getting into the swing of things. Nothing like a good, righteous bitchfest as a stress reliever every once in a while. 

Of course, Draco Malfoy then had to poke his nose in and ruin things. 

“Well,  _ I  _ think a hardline is just what we need.” 

Harry just looked at him dully. The thing was, so far as Harry could tell, Draco hated him and his whole friend group primarily because Draco’s parents were blood supremacists who had hated the Potters and loathed Lily Evans even more. For all Harry knew, the only reason Lucius and Narcissa were so invested in the aforementioned despising was that  _ their  _ parents had instilled it in them. Knowing something of the horrors of Sirius’ childhood, a part of Harry pitied Draco for it. On the other hand, a larger part just didn’t care: Draco was fifteen and had been exposed to a million examples of extraordinary muggleborns and half-bloods at Hogwarts. Somewhere inside him he had made a conscious choice to be a bigot, and every time he opened his mouth around Harry and his friends, Draco made the choice again. If he ever decided to stop, Harry would try not to hold his past against him-but for now, Harry didn’t have to sit down and take it. 

Ironically, it was a very Lily-esque philosophy. 

“You think a hardline is just what we need?” Ron repeated, staring incredulously at Draco “ _ You? _ ” 

“Of course. You’ll be aware that I’ve been made prefect-” Harry wasn’t, but he didn’t let it show “And I’ve noticed that what this school lacks is organisational discipline: too many important jobs are given to too many people who just don’t  _ understand  _ them. It’s not a new problem, naturally, but it’s one I intend to solve. Hopefully, by the time I’m Minister for Magic-” 

“Minister for Madness, more like.” Ron muttered. 

“-they will have adopted a similar policy- but I’m up for the challenge of implementing it myself.” 

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘people who just don’t understand’?” Harry asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer. He’d have a laugh about Draco thinking he could be Minister for Magic later. 

Tossing his hair, Draco shared a self-satisfied glance with his goons before he began to reply. 

“Wizards and witches who-” 

He abruptly developed a speech impediment in the form of one of Neville’s roots, which had miraculously escaped from his tender ministrations and seemed to be attempting to flee to the hills via Draco’s face. 

Harry caught Neville’s eye and grinned. He’d never been more proud. 

**** 

Sirius was proud; his little cousin had managed to keep up a solid stream of observational humour for the last twenty minutes, interspersed with many a tart comment on how strange and misshapen Sirius’ jawline looked from below. Of course, he had pointed out that his jawline was prey to the natural optical distortions inherent in the use of magical mirrors, but Tonks wasn’t having any of it. 

“No, I think it’s just inbreeding.” she quipped, half her face and a ribbon of steel-grey sky visible through the connection. 

Sirius had his mirror hidden partially from view in the crook of his crossed arms, so it was no trouble for him to flip her off. 

“Piss off, I’ve got paperwork to do.” 

“Alright, I’ll be off then and you can catch your own illegal evidence.” 

“It’s not illegal if you just  _ happen  _ to be there.” 

The image in the mirror wheeled and shifted as Tonks made sure to capture her entire expression for maximum effect. 

Sirius sighed, ducked his head closer to the desk, and said very quietly “It’s the day after the full moon, Remus would be useless. I’d prefer to have him there too.” 

“I can do it. I  _ am  _ doing it.” 

“I know, you’re a great auror. But you’re an  _ auror _ . That’s the problem.” 

“Eh,” Tonks shrugged “If they fire me for this I’ll just join the Order full-time.” 

“The Order which hasn’t been re-grouped yet?” 

“Well, if we find anything…” 

Once again, Sirius’ stomach clenched violently. After the euphoria of a lead, no matter how tangential, the reality of Lucius Malfoy’s possible involvement had sunk in. Where a Malfoy stalked, dark deeds followed- and Lucius had been stalking very closely on Voldemort’s heels the first time round. 

But they needed proof. And, given that the auror office would never sign-off on an investigation into Malfoy unless he went so far as to disembowel someone in public, the task had fallen squarely to them: Tonks surveilling Knockturn Alley from the end of Diagon in the hopes that Malfoy would use the start-of-term rush of childless shoppers for a spot of retail therapy, Sirius fervently ignoring that it was a long shot while he listened in from work. 

Tonks had been there for five hours, and the shops were starting to close. Sirius was laughing quietly at a joke she made, on the verge of telling her to call it a day, when she suddenly fumbled with the mirror. 

“I see him.” she hissed “Coming up Knockturn. Going into the apothecary at the top.” 

“The apothecary?” 

Sirius straightened. They might have some luck after all. 

“Yes.” Tonks took a casual sip of her Fortescue’s milkshake “He’s talking to the clerk. Clerk’s gone; Malfoy’s waiting.” 

Then, ten minutes later: “Clerk’s  _ still _ gone. Malfoy looks like he’s got a kniffler in his pants.” 

Another five minutes, and: “I hope he’s  _ wearing  _ pants. Clerk may be dead. Malfoy keeps glancing into the street.” 

Until, eventually, Tonks smirked in triumph and reported: “Clerk’s back. Handing Malfoy a potion, Malfoy’s tucking it into his sleeve. Didn’t get a proper look at it. And-” 

Kingsley burst into the office, jaw taught, and barked “Evans case, form up!” 

“ _ Shit. _ ” Sirius swore, banging his knee on the table as he scrambled to both hide the mirror and leg it over to where the team was already gathering around their leader. 

“Five minutes ago St. Mungo’s took in a wizard; dead on arrival, exact symptoms as Lily Evans-Potter.” 

Sirius frowned, but he didn’t have time for the various expressions of grief and vexation babbling up around him. 

“Was he muggle-born?” 

The other aurors looked at Kingsley keenly- Sirius had dutifully reported the contents of Harry’s letter, but a lot of his colleagues didn’t seem to believe him. He tried not to think too closely about whether that was more of a reflection on him or his godson. 

“No idea.” Kingsley replied “We haven’t got a name for him yet. But if you’re volunteering to find out, I have pictures of the body in my pocket.” 

Sirius was not volunteering. 

He held out his hand. 


	12. Hey, I’m Gonna Get You, Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Black lives matter.
> 
> Trans rights are human rights. 
> 
> As an ally, I hear you. I support you. And I hope this fic makes my feelings towards police brutality and institutional prejudice pretty clear.

“Sirius?” 

“Hm?” 

“You’ve been staring at your weetabix for two minutes straight.” 

“Ah.” Sirius hadn’t realised “Sorry.” 

Under the table, Remus’ foot settled on top of his. 

“It’s the second murder, isn’t it?” 

Sirius nodded. Obviously it was entirely against regulation, but he’d blurted the evening’s happenings to Remus the second he’d got back from work. Remus, buried in a nest of blankets for his post-moon recovery, had frowned blearily and said concisely: “Fuck.” 

Sirius’ thoughts exactly. When he had opened the envelope of photos, it had taken him a moment to parse the object pictured  _ as  _ a corpse. The eyes were open, but flooded red with burst blood vessels, and the flatness of the image meant the shape of the nose was almost indistinguishable in the mire of cracked and withered skin, which seemed to have bubbled up like a stinging hex. Stomach turning, Sirius had forced himself to focus on the man's downy blond hair and blue button-up, which provided a shaky basis for the assumptions that the man was most likely younger than mid-60s, and had probably been at a bar or restaurant. Alone, Sirius had assumed, given that whoever brought the victim to St Mungo's didn't bother to stick around. 

It had taken Sirius another ten minutes to realise that he did, in fact, know the victim: Davy Cudgeon, in their year at Hogwarts and a Ravenclaw to his core, ready to try anything once. It had gained him momentary notoriety at school when he nearly lost an eye approaching the Whomping Willow, but it made his travel writing as an adult brilliant. For example, in the last two months his column in the  _ Daily Prophet _ had featured Aztec potion-making in Mexico, a visit to hot springs run by water sprites in Japan, a tour around the Magical House of Knowledge in Baghdad, and a trip to the Isle of Wight to use something called a hovercraft ferry. Sirius didn’t know if the latter was a wizard thing or muggle given that as a muggleborn, Cudgeon wasn’t afraid to make the journey part of the experience in a way most purebloods shied away from. 

Cudgeon’s birth was also most likely the quality which had brought about his death.

If there was one consolation to the situation, it was that Sirius and Kingley had managed to maneuver their colleagues into accepting ‘serial killer with a grudge against muggleborns in moderately high profile positions’ as a working theory. Sirius had started to casually postulate that maybe it wasn’t just an individual, but Kingsley had cut him off with a well-timed ‘Copycat killer? Not likely’. Begrudgingly, Sirius had to trust his instincts. 

That didn’t mean he had to stop working on the theory himself. 

He stacked his foot on top of Remus’ to make a foot sandwich under the table. 

“How bright-eyed and bushy tailed are you feeling today?” 

“Like someone threw Basil Brush in the Thames at low tide. Why?” 

The reference flew over Sirius’ head, but he elected to ignore that. 

“Think prying into our dead friend’s memories will make you feel better?” 

“Not in the slightest.” Remus downed the rest of his tea “You call Alice, I’ll get changed.” 

*** 

They were lucky Alice had had to retire from full-time Auror work a year or so ago on account of her memory problems, because if she hadn’t she wouldn’t be there in Brewer’s Lane waiting for them in the living area, hands on her narrow hips and pointedly focussed on the clock.

Minutes later, they were gathered around Lily’s pensieve. 

“Chronological order?” Remus asked, ‘ _ Relevant _ ’ phials in hand. 

They nodded, Remus poured the contents of the phial into the bowl of the pensieve, and-

_ They were in a Hogwarts dungeon, empty save for two students: Lily Evans, around fourteen, sitting cross-legged on a chair with her robes hiked up around her knobbly knees, and Severus Snape, knees of unknown status. They weren’t working, just using the room to eat their lunch.  _

“Pretty sure eating outside the Great Hall and dormitories is a high offence.” Alice commented in amusement.  __

Sirius ignored her. He didn't mean to, but being suddenly confronted with a version of your arch-nemesis less than half your age put a few things into perspective. Like how Snape had, in fact, been a sort of vulnerable-looking  _ boy _ once. One that reminded Sirius uncomfortably of Regulus.

As Snape  _ laughed  _ at something Lily said, eyes crinkling, shred of lettuce stuck to his tooth, Sirius actually felt a bit  _ guilty _ . 

_ “Oh!” Lily perked up as if just remembering something, eyes glittering “I can’t believe I haven’t asked you yet! What are you doing for your Potions coursework next year?”  _

_ Snape smiled in response, a smile which somehow managed to convey genuine contentment and smug self-satisfaction at once.  _

_ “Blood-locking potions.”  _

And there went most of Sirius’ guilt. He turned to Remus and Alice, who were both looking grimly surprised. 

“Who  _ is _ this kid?” Alice asked. 

“Sni- Severus Snape.” 

Alice nodded “Ah.”

_ “Blood-locking potions?” Lily nibbled at her sandwich distractedly “Do you mean a potion that helps with blood clotting?”  _

_ “No, nothing as simple as that. I mean potions which only activate in the presence of a certain blood type.”  _

_ “Blood type? What use could that- Oh.”  _

_ The fire died in Lily’s eyes and she sat back a little, sucking on her lower lip.  _

_ “You mean the blood purity sort of blood type, don’t you.”  _

_ It was neither a question, nor a statement which Lily seemed surprised to be making.  _

_ Snape rolled his eyes, snapping “Don’t look at me like that, Lily. It’s brilliant.”  _

_ “Well, technically. Actually, it seems very advanced for an O.W.L. But, Sev, what would you  _ use  _ it for?”  _

_ “I don’t know, I’ll make something up. What matters is that it’s a good project. Slughorn will  _ have _ to love it. And it’ll be ten times better than what that dolt Potter comes up with.”  _

_ “What’s Potter got to do with it?” Lily shook her head “Actually, never mind. I don’t mean what would you specifically do with it, but what  _ could  _ it be used for? You can see how a blood-locking potion might be taken advantage of by someone who didn’t have the best of intentions, and there  _ are _ quite a few of them in this school-”  _

_ “Lily. Stop fretting. You sound like your mother.”  _

_ Lily blinked. Even as her eyebrows knotted, she let out an awkward laugh. _

_ Snape’s mouth convulsed briefly.  _

_ “Fine. I won’t share it with anyone. Not if I think it’ll be a bad idea.”  _

_ Lily looked unconvinced.  _

_ “I just want to see if it’ll  _ work _.” Snape wheedled, crossing his arms and-  _

They were out of the memory. 

"Well, that seems-" 

"Damning?" 

Remus smiled in a way that reminded Sirius exactly what he did every full moon night. 

Alice crossed her arms, quirking an eyebrow “We should watch more before coming to any conclusions.” 

_ Or they could track Snape down to whatever hole he crawled into at the end of the war, drag him out of it, and leave him tied to a bridge to be eaten by vultures… _

“Alright.” Sirius sighed. 

They were covered in goop anyway. 

Remus squinted at the phials’ labels. 

“Next one’s ‘79.” 

“That’s a jump.” 

Sirius pinched his nose “Let’s go.” 

_ He landed in the middle of a fire. Instinctively, he leapt back, on the verge of dropping to the ground when he realised the flames couldn’t do a thing to him.  _

_ The burning item in question was a chair, tipped over in the centre of a cluttered, wood-paneled room. Distant, distorted screams echoed off the walls like the dripping of a tap heard from below the surface of a bath.  _

Sirius fought the urge to raise his wand. 

_ A panel burst inwards. A millisecond later a dark-cloaked figure hit the floor with a crash. They were shortly followed by Lily, ponytail swinging violently as she spun on the spot, wand drawn. Her forehead was smeared with blood.  _

_ “Lily!”  _

_ James appeared behind her, panting, half-scolding and half-relieved.  _

_ “Someone’s been through here before, but they’re not here now, and it’s a dead-end.”  _

_ James snorted, glancing anxiously down the corridor they’d emerged from “Well, it can’t actually be a dead-end then, can it?”  _

_ “No. So unless…” Lily closed the door; it blended into the panelling perfectly.  _

_ “Wizard!” she grinned.  _

_ “Yes?”  _

Remus buried his head in Sirius’ shoulder despairingly. 

_ “Shut up.” Lily laughed “Any posh boy insights?”  _

_ “Loads.” James replied, before raising his wand and blasting a panel at the far end of the room into splinters with a  _ bombarda.  _ Behind it lay another dim corridor very similar to the first.  _

_ Lily glared at James disapprovingly. He grinned. Rolling her eyes all the while, Lily rocked up onto her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. Then she skipped off down the corridor, James trailing after with a lovesick grin.  _

“I do  _ not  _ miss their honeymoon phase.” Sirius half-lied, traipsing after them. 

_ The corridor ended in what looked at first to be a stone vault. With a flick of her wand, Lily lit the room and revealed it to be a potions lab, empty but for the young couple and their three silent observers.  _

_ “Damn.” James swore, poking mulishly at a stack of ingredient boxes. He had never exactly learnt to think like a spy.  _

_ “Not ‘damn’.” Lily replied, immediately beginning to rifle through papers and peer at the cauldrons scattered about with a slightly frenetic air “Find anything that might look encoded. Anything which refers to human trials.”  _

_ “Human-” James shook his head and set to work, keeping his wand in one hand because Lily had put hers away in her eagerness.  _

“Are you thinking they’re looking for what I think they’re looking for?” Alice wondered aloud as they watched the lab be turned systematically upside down. 

“Snape’s notes on the potions base he mentioned for his O.W.Ls?” 

“Lily would’ve talked to Snape about his potions O.W.L, though. So if she has no idea how to make whatever she’s looking for, just that it exists…” 

“Then she must be looking for something in development, or recently developed.” Sirius concluded “Likely something using Snape’s base, otherwise she wouldn’t have bothered putting that memory in this series. So-” 

“She’s probably looking for the development notes of the potion that killed her.” Remus finished grimly. 

_ “Yes!” Lily exclaimed, hurriedly wriggling a stone block free from the wall to reveal a hidden cavity. Without hesitation, Lily plunged her arm into it, rooting around with her brows furrowed for a few seconds. As one, James and the observers edged closer. Lily pulled out a thick, neatly rolled scroll of parchment. What little writing was visible did indeed seem to be in a form of code.  _

_ “Put that back, Lily.” said Snape, stepping noiselessly into the lab. _

_ Lily jumped, fumbling with the parchment to reach her wand. By the time she had it James had leapt forwards, sending a curse Snape’s way. A shield appeared to intercept it.  _

_ “Really, Potter?”  _

_ “Evans-Potter.” James corrected, looking smug.  _

_ Lily’s wand had joined James’.  _

_ “Let us take it, Severus.”  _

_ Snape almost looked regretful “You know I can’t do that.”  _

_ “Severus-”  _

_ “Just put it back.”  _

_ Lily shook her head, handing him back his words “You know I can’t do that.”  _

_ “Well, I’m sorry,” Snape said, dropping into a duelling stance “That is has come to this.”  _

_ “So am I.” Lily informed him, before throwing a cauldron at his head.  _

_ This memory didn’t just end, but faded. Snape’s prone body, unconscious on the floor, was the last thing that lingered.  _

The sunlight streaming in through Lily’s bedroom windows had shifted. It must have been around midday.  __

Sirius met two pairs of serious eyes. 

“Carry on?” 

They nodded. 

“Carry on.” 


	13. Unbreaking Though Quaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently 13 really is an unlucky number bc this chapter just would. not. let. itself. be. written! 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: graphic depiction of torture. To skip, search for "Alice hummed, still thinking about her capture and escape" 
> 
> Stay safe <3

They landed in gloom but Alice didn’t even have to open her eyes fully to know which memory they’d fallen into. It was seared into her brain, utterly indelible, and would be until the day she died. Which was ironic, considering she was witnessing the end of the three days’ captivity which had shot her memory to near-pieces and instilled in her a lingering antipathy for barns. 

_ “No,” Lily whimpered, eyes not even focusing on the cloaked man holding her torso up from the earth floor by her greasy hair “No, I...won’t.”  _

_ The cloaked figure released her hair. Lily’s chin met the ground with a dull thud.  _

“Oh, God.” Remus whispered, bringing a hand up to his mouth. Beside him, Sirius paled and turned away; then promptly turned back again. 

_ At the other end of the barn, Alice screamed.  _

She swallowed, resolutely refusing to look at her past self “Heck of a memory to pick.” 

“If you need to leave-” 

“No. No, I-” Alice forced herself to smile, a reflection of Sirius’ trademark cocky grin “It’ll be nice to see what was going on this end of the torture chamber. Closure an’ all that.” 

“Right.” 

Neither man looked convinced, but they let her be.

Alice was glad for that, because she would be very,  _ very _ easily persuaded to leave. 

_ “I won’t ask again.”  _

_ “I can’t even-” Lily retched, bile flicking onto her tattered white blouse “What...ugh. Question.”  _

_ “Dumb bitch.” the cloaked figure sighed, flicking their wand lazily in Lily’s direction. A hand darted out of the darkness to stop them.  _

_ “We won’t get a thing out of her if you carry on like that.”  _

_ The first cloaked figure shook the second off angrily “It’s been working so far.”  _

_ “Barely.” a bored sigh “Look, I’m not saying give her a break. Just change tactics for a bit.”  _

_ “Fine.”  _

_ A kick to the ribs sent Lily sprawling with a whine.  _

_ “Look. We’re torturing you, okay. It’s not fun-”  _

_ Lily snorted, then pulled a face. _

_ “- and it’s not getting us anywhere fast. You aren’t the only person we can torture, though. We know you have a son-”  _

_ “Pah!”  _

_ “What?”  _

Alice slipped her wand out of the pocket in her robes, just to know for sure she had it. 

_ “As if you’ll be able to get to him. There are - what?- at least three people willing to die for him aside from me.”  _

_ “Oh,” Lily’s torturer crouched, a new energy in their movements “And how would they be able to do anything about it? Do they all live with you and your husband?”  _

_ Lily lunged, gripping the Death Eater’s wand clumsily. They tried to wrench it away but she clung on.  _

_ “Stupefy!”  _

_ Miraculously, the spell caught the figure’s shoulder. They fell, fingers going slack on the wand. Lily flopped over, firing off four more curses in an arc. Then the second figure hit her with a  _ crucio  _ and _

_ held  _




Alice’s mind whited out. 

She found herself on Lily’s sofa with a cup of tea in hand. 

“What happened?” 

Sirius, sat pretty much on Remus’ lap in the armchair opposite, grimaced. He already looked hunted enough. 

“We were in a pensive memory from the time you and Lily were captured during the war. The two of you were just about to escape when you...vacated your mind, I suppose.” 

“Right.” Alice sipped the tea, which was the perfect temperature but a touch too sweet for her taste “Sorry.” 

Remus smiled tiredly “Nothing to apologise for.” 

“Did I miss anything?” 

“Not really, the memory ended quite abruptly after you stopped responding.” 

Alice nodded. She knew what happened after, anyway. Crawling to her own torturer’s wand. Cursing the Death Eater holding Lily down. Dragging herself over to find Lily, eyes blown wide, diaphragm spasming out of control. Having to  _ stupefy  _ Lily to make it stop and being terrified she wouldn’t wake up. Somehow making it outside the barn’s apparition barriers and dumping them both on the verge of some random road. Waking up to an alarmed police officer, Lily getting out something about ‘cults’ and ‘Manson’. Waking up again after a week and a half of induced coma in a muggle hospital. Finally getting back to Order HQ and being paralysed for a second by the horrifying thought that her baby might not recognise her anymore. 

Then Frank, streaking down the steps of the old mansion to meet them at the gates, sweeping Alice into the tightest hug she’d ever felt. 

“Why did Lily include that memory, I wonder?” Remus mused.

Alice hummed, still thinking about her capture and escape. 

Moody had appeared out of nowhere and yanked Frank off her, grumbling about identity before proceeding to stand there and grill them for twenty minutes. By the time he’d finished a crowd had gathered, James had been crying, and Alice had been swaying on her feet. 

“Could she have wanted to prove the memories really  _ were _ hers?” 

“That’s fairly obvious from the ones we’ve already watched, though, isn’t it?” 

“It is.” Alice agreed, stretching her fingers around the cooling mug “We’ll work it out eventually.” 

Paltry assurance for having to witness something so horrible, and they all knew it. 

Sirius frowned. 

“Eventually.” 

**** 

**MYSTERIOUS MUGGLEBORN MURDERER?** **  
** **Ministry Baffled By Another Bizarre Death, Rita Skeeter reports**

_ When grief rippled through the offices of the  _ Daily Prophet _ this Tuesday in response to the death of our very own travel correspondent Davy Cudgeon, the question on everyone’s lips was how? Why? And could this death be linked to Lily Potter’s unfortunate end? Cudgeon’s disfigured body (left) seems to say so.  _

_ Our Ministry source, limpid tears staining her cheeks, reports that the Department for Magical Law Enforcement had never expected anything of the sort to happen within Britain’s peaceful wizarding community… (continued on page 6)  _

Harry stared at the article numbly. 

“Mum’s last name wasn’t ‘Potter’.” 

“We know, mate.” 

Ron was eyeing him cautiously, frowning in between bites of hash brown. The Great Hall was near-silent but for the flapping of owls’ wings and the rustling of paper. For once, everyone was reading the  _ Prophet.  _ The horrifying corpse plastered across the front page had a lot to do with it. 

“If this guy was poisoned with the same thing as mum then…” 

Harry launched himself off the bench, barely registering the hundreds of eyes tracking his ungainly exit. A flash of red followed after him, but he didn’t look to see who it was. He was too invested in getting to the nearest toilet to throw up and maybe tear his heart out. 

**** 

“Peter.” 

“What?” Sirius rolled over, bleary. Remus was awake and staring at him with bed-mussed hair and bright eyes. 

“Why Lily might have shown us that memory. What if it was to let us know that she’d suspected Peter even then?” 

“How’d you figure that?” 

“Three people.” 

“Remus, as much as I love it, I’ve just woken up and you’re being way too clever way too fast for me to-” 

“Lily said she knew of at least three people except her who would have been willing to die for Harry. So that’s Prongs, you, me, and  _ not  _ Peter.” 

Sirius frowned, reaching out absentmindedly to trace the scar which ran like a river across Remus’ face from his temple. 

“What if she didn’t mean any of us? What if she did mean us but thought  _ you  _ were the exception? What if she thought Peter just hated Harry? That doesn’t necessarily mean she suspected he was the traitor.” 

“But,” Remus countered, catching Sirius’ hand in his to tangle their fingers together “If she did mean any of that, why would the memory be ‘relevant’? None of us recognised the Death Eaters, the fact that Lily and Alice were tortured isn’t new…” 

Sirius was waking up. 

“What if the point isn’t that Lily suspected Peter of being the traitor, but that she suspected him full-stop?” 

Understanding dawned across Remus’ features “Which would mean…” 

He cut himself off, jaw clenching as if he thought he could wrestle his feelings into nonexistence through sheer grit. Sirius stared at him, pained, and he stared back. Neither of them wanted to be the one to say it. 

Sirius bit the bubotuber. 

“Which would mean Lily thought Peter was involved in all this.” 

“Yes.” Remus whispered. 

“Okay.” Sirius sighed, tugging Remus’s cotton pyjama warmth into his chest “We can deal with this.” 

“In the morning.” Remus yawned. 

Sirius buried his face in his curls, calming. 

“In the morning.” 


	14. Who Will Not Be Slaves Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an intense chapter to write, and I hope I did the subject justice. 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: a hate crime occurs at the end of the apparition lesson, targeting Hermione's muggleborn status, and there is brief discussion of a past hate crime against Hermione's parents on the basis of the fact that they are black 
> 
> Seems odd to say enjoy this chapter, but I hope you get something from it :)

The tables in the Great Hall had been vanished and the doors were bracketed with two disorganised heaps of bags; the entirety of fifth year stood in gaggles close by them, waiting for Professor McGonagall to gather her notes and begin.

Hermione could hardly breathe, she was so excited. 

“We’re going to learn to  _ teleport! _ ” 

“We’re almost proper adults, now!” Ron grinned back “Ginny’s seething.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn’t even bother to remind Ron that they wouldn’t  _ legally  _ be able to apparate until they were sixteen because...Teleportation! Actual, real life, teleportation! Not to mention the physics involved in folding a wizard up at one end and sending them shooting out at another, the sensitivity required in the mapping magic to relate a mental picture to a geographic location…Even as McGonagall’s speech began, Hermione’s mind swirled with questions. Did apparition rely on image alone? If a witch wanted to apparate to a location which was exactly identical in appearance to another, would she just have to hope she ended up at the right one, or was there a way to work around that? What if someone couldn’t draw up a detailed mental picture, or got the details wrong? Was it safe to apparate to places you hadn’t been in a long time? Could blind people apparate based on an image constructed from touch and description?

And quite apart from that, why were so many of her classmates looking  _ bored _ ? Even if growing up with apparition had taken the shine off it, it seemed rather stupid  _ not  _ to listen to McGonagall’s explanation, given that the aforementioned explanation was the reason for this break in the timetable in the first place. 

“Hermione.” Ron hissed, elbowing her none-too-subtly. 

She blinked, blushing “Pardon, what was the question again?” 

“Please name five places you would expect  _ not  _ to be able to apparate to.” 

“Oh,” Hermione scrunched up her nose in concentration- a habit she had yet to break, despite her mum’s frequent comments on it “Hogwarts, the interior of the Ministry of Magic, private residences which have apparition wards up, the interior of St Mungo’s hospital, and...uh...sorry, I’m not sure about the last one.”

“Quidditch pitches.” Ron supplied. 

McGonagall nodded, pleased “Very good Miss Granger, Mister Weasley.” 

Hermione smiled. 

Beside her Elph Achebe, a boisterous Hufflepuff Hermione shared Ancient Runes with, raised her hand “Professor, if you can’t apparate in Hogwarts, how come you’re teaching us to apparate...in Hogwarts?”

Elph smirked as she lowered her hand to the sound of titters, but McGonagall only nodded “A sensible question, Miss Achebe. As Deputy Headmistress, I am able to deconstruct the apparition wards within a select area for this express purpose. Once our lesson has finished, I will reconstruct them.” 

Hermione almost asked whether she would be allowed to watch, but thought better of it. 

“Now,” McGonagall eyed them sternly over her glasses “Apparition, as I have mentioned, is a hazardous exercise for first-timers and seasoned wizards alike. It is not to be undertaken without confidence and clarity. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Professor McGonagall.” they responded in a collective drawl reminiscent of morning assemblies in primary school. 

“Good.” McGonagall pulled a tight scroll out of the sleeve of her robes and unfurled it “I will call on you in alphabetical order. If you feel ready to attempt apparition, step forwards and I will give you further instructions. If you do  _ not _ feel ready, simply step aside. We will  _ not _ judge  _ any _ of our fellow students for their choice. Speaking as the Head of Gryffindor House, I can assure you that discretion is the better part of valour.” 

Stifling a giggle, Hermione shot a meaningful glance at Harry. He pretended not to notice. 

Then McGonagall called up Hannah Abbot and the entire year watched with bated breath as she closed her eyes, turned on the spot, and re-appeared a metre and a half away on shaky feet. The seconds dragged on as Hannah blanched, face going almost as white as her pale blonde hair. 

“Has she splinched herself?” someone whispered. 

“Is she bleeding?” added another, more vicious voice. 

“Don’t be mean,” Hermione hissed “She’s-” 

About to throw up, apparently. 

Neville, who seemed to have taken a fancy to Hannah, winced. 

McGonagall cleared up the vomit with a flick of her wand and patted Hannah awkwardly on the back “Good lass. Well done. Get yourself to the Hospital Wing if you feel it necessary. Madame Pomfrey will be waiting.” 

Hannah nodded weakly and tottered off. Next on the register came Elph Achebe, who didn’t manage to move an inch, then Lavender Brown who had the dubious honour of being the first of the group to splinch herself- thankfully, not too much. By the time it came round to Hermione’s turn the excitement of it all was wearing thin, replaced by churning anticipation. Briefly, she considered stepping aside. But she wasn’t nearly placed in Gryffindor for nothing. 

“Please aim for the space between the two chairs to our left.” McGonagall instructed. 

“Right.” Hermione nodded. She could do this. One turn and she’d be there. 

She shifted her weight to her heel, felt her robes lift as she twisted, a very brief sensation of being compressed, and...she tumbled to the hard flagstones in the same place she’d started. 

_ Oh _ . 

_ Okay _ . 

Disappointment flooded up her esophagus like bile. For a second she gagged, thinking she really was going to be sick. Then she registered the tears pricking at her eyes and grit her teeth. She was  _ not  _ going to cry over a failed apparition. Not with the whole year watching. 

Anyway, she was being ridiculous. Just because she couldn’t do it the first time, didn’t mean she wouldn’t be able to do it the second or third. 

Still, she was a little pleased that Harry couldn’t manage it either.

By the time the lesson ended, Hermione was even laughing at Ron’s exaggerated bragging over his successful apparition, still smiling when she reached into her bag to check which lesson she had next. 

That smile was quickly wiped off her face when her hand made contact with something cold and wrinkly which gave under her fingers like rotten fruit. Frowning, Hermione grit her teeth and extracted it, expecting to find a banana she’d chucked in for a study session and forgotten about. 

She registered three things in the split second before she shrieked: first, that she was holding a tiny corpse, bloated like the one on the cover of the  _ Daily Prophet _ ; second, that it looked just like her; third, that the word ‘mudblood’ was scrawled in red straight down its Slytherin uniform. 

Then the corpse was on the floor and someone was laughing while someone else was trying to call her name, but it didn’t matter because Hermione’s primary concern in that moment was relearning how to breathe. 

**** 

An hour and a half later, Hermione stood in front of the Headmaster’s desk with Ron and Harry at her sides. It was the students’ lunch time, which had been a strategic decision on her part- Hermione was sure the Great Hall was alight with gossip about her she had no interest in hearing. 

“Well, then, what brings you to my office? I have to say, students do not often come here of their own volition.” Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling. 

“This, sir.” Hermione replied, extracting the corpse from her bag and placing it awkwardly on the desk. 

Hermione watched carefully as Dumbledore’s eyebrows twitched and his twinkle morphed into something more like the light of intelligence, but all he came up with was “Well, that  _ is  _ unpleasant.” 

_ Unpleasant? _

“But…” 

Hermione floundered, but Harry didn’t. 

“It’s a hate crime.” he declared in the passionate bluster he’d been using ever since Hermione found the thing “You have to do something.” 

Dumbledore smiled benevolently “Mr. Potter, I believe the object in question is nothing but a cleverly transfigured doll. It was a cruel trick to place it in Miss Granger’s bag, and one I certainly do not condone, but a trick nonetheless.” 

“A trick?” Harry repeated incredulously; Hermione glanced at him nervously “Professor, it was an intimidation tactic. Just look at it- Hermione’s uniform, Hermione’s hair, and a slur across it in the colour of blood. It’s a hate crime!” 

Somehow, despite the fact that Harry seemed on the verge of raising his voice to him, Dumbledore’s placid expression hadn’t changed except for a ripple of- was that amusement? Hermione’s heart started to beat faster. 

“A hateful misdemeanour, yes. One which” Dumbledore smiled at Hermione “we will seek to punish. But not a hate crime. If I were you, I would be wary of terms I don’t understand, Mr. Potter.” 

Harry gaped “My mum might be white, but I  _ am _ still Desi.One of my best friends,” he gestured at Hermione enthusiastically “is black. Some of them are trans. My uncles are queer and one of them’s a werewolf. I’m half-blood. I don’t watch all of the news, but I watch enough. I  _ know  _ what a hate crime is, Professor.” 

“So do I.” Hermione added, partly because she was worried Harry would work himself up to challenging Dumbledore to a duel and partly because they were there because of a hate crime against  _ her  _ in the first place “You see, my parents are dentists, sir, and they own their own practice. When I was about eight a woman came in and- I won’t go into details, but- there was a lot of yelling and my dad had to call the police. That was a hate crime. My parents made sure I understood that. This,” Hermione gestured to the doll “Is also a hate crime, I’m sure of it. A different kind, but still an attack on something I can’t and wouldn’t want to change about myself.”

“And what’s more,” Hermione continued, noticing that Dumbledore looked as if he was about to say something like  _ Very well, but…  _ “There’s a recent precedent for dealing with hate crimes seriously, quickly, and clearly. One man was convicted by the Wizengamot in 1985, and another in 1990. I’ve been called a mudblood before in this school and I haven’t brought it to you, Professor, but I really feel that I need your support in this, sir.” 

Dumbledore nodded seriously, then responded like a true politician. 

“I support all of my students, Miss. Granger, especially when bullying is involved.” 

“But it’s not bullying.” Ron piped up, arms crossed “It’s different.” 

Dumbledore inclined his head, hat remaining miraculously static “I confess myself impressed by the commitment to dignity and equality you three have displayed this afternoon, and concerned by Miss. Granger’s mention of the use of slurs within this school. But I fear that Mr. Weasley has encapsulated the crux of the matter- that this doll  _ seems  _ to be a hate crime. It is not indisputably so, and may simply be a remarkably gauche pastiche designed to inspire controversy. I will naturally remind the student body that Hogwarts demands respectful conduct and will not look kindly upon intolerance, but I can hardly take a student to trial.” 

He stood, and smiled again “Now, I believe you have classes to attend.” 

They mumbled their insincere thanks and filed out, mullish silence between them. Silence that Hermione used to plan. 

**** 

“Right help, he was. You were both brilliant in there, though.” Ron said, halfway to Charms. Hermione warmed slightly. 

"Yeah," Harry agreed, smiling "Mum would've been proud." he tugged at his robes "Sorry for stealing your thunder a bit there." 

Hermione shuffled her books "I should probably be more annoyed at you, but it's easy to get away from yourself when you're angry. Maybe you can make it up to me by helping me protest, though." 

"Oh?" 

Both boys leaned in close; Hermione felt a wave of nostalgia for easier days when they would take this position to plot out their little conspiracy theories about certain teachers and students, some of which - Hagrid was raising a dragon- proved true, while others - there was a basilisk in the walls- did not. Of course, Neville's halfhearted pleas for them to  _ be sensible  _ and  _ come on, Hermione, you're better than this  _ were missing, but Hermione would let that pass- by the end of First Year Neville was right there with them, anyway. 

Hermione lowered her voice "We won't do anything until we know what Professor Dumbledore says on the matter, but I suspect his 'reminder' won't be anything very strong- so we need to make it clear ourselves that we won't tolerate blood prejudice in this school. Otherwise, everyone will laugh it off."

"So what do we do?" Ron prodded, scratching his nose "Find whoever did it and yell at them?" 

Hermione shook her head "It might take ages to do that, and if we got the wrong person it would invalidate the whole thing. I was thinking something much broader and more unavoidable." 

"Yell at  _ everyone _ ?" 

She snorted " _ No _ , a print campaign. Neville's mum sent me the charmed printing press Harry's mum left to me- shrunk down, of course- and I think Luna might have a badge maker. We can make protest posters and information leaflets and spread them across the school." 

Harry nodded slowly "If we did it during the day people might try to stop us, but if we did it at night no-one will and it will shock people, which mum always said gets people talking." 

Hermione frowned. She liked the idea, and it was certainly dramatic, but…"If we got caught we'd be in a lot of trouble and all our effort might be wasted." 

They were approaching the Charms classroom and a huddle of their fellow students. 

Harry lowered his voice, enigmatic but for the boyish excitement on his face "I have a couple of things which could help with that." 


	15. Should’ve Know Better Than To Cheat A Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suffer from a chronic infliction called Changed My Mind About How To Write This Chapter Like Five Times. Nevertheless, hope you enjoy some drama, thanks for reading, and as always I love a comment even if it is to tell me you find xyz part of this fic a bit confusing! :D

“So.” Sirius said, “Peter.” 

“Peter.” Remus echoed. He knew he sounded like he was at someone’s funeral, but _Lord_. Peter Pettigrew. A cigarette burn in Remus’ conscious, a spectre bundled up with every regret he’d ever had and nearly every fond memory of his youth.

“Where did we get to last time we talked about him?” 

“I don’t think we ever did.” 

Remus scoffed “ _ Surely _ , we-”

“No.” they were on the sofa for this conversation, Sirius tucked into Remus’ side as if that would make any of this easier “No, I think the last time we talked about Peter, we were plotting his murder.” 

“Oh.” 

Abruptly, Remus realised that he needed to cry. 

Here was the thing: Remus fell in love with Sirius at the age of nineteen. By twenty-one, he was convinced that the object of his affections was a traitor. On the night the war ended, Remus had walked off into the woods surrounding the Order’s HQ alone; he had woken to the tang of unfamiliar blood on his tongue and the sight of calmly coiling smoke on the horizon. 

He hadn’t even pelted halfway up the lawn before he found James’ body. 

His knees had hit the dewy earth silently. A second had passed. The corpse had stayed a corpse. 

“James.” Remus had whispered, wonderingly; then, with salt in his mouth as well as blood  _ “ _ No _. James, no _ .” 

Just as he was reaching the precipice of the soul-deep maw of grief inside him, a hex had hit him square in the chest. It was swiftly followed by Sirius’ boot. In the next second they were brawling, bloodying each other and the grass with single-minded, primal ferocity. If the aurors on scene hadn’t pulled them apart, they would without a doubt have killed each other. If they hadn’t fought at all maybe Peter, watching covertly on, would have had the confidence to approach them, to ask for forgiveness, to atone for his betrayal. If Peter had come to them sooner. If they’d never been friends with Peter at all. If, if, if. 

Remus drew his hand along the arm of the sofa slowly “Should we find that Peter  _ is  _ involved in this mess...should we be surprised?” 

Sirius swallowed audibly “I don’t know.” 

“Are you surprised that he’s surfaced again? Even if only as a theory, for now.” 

“Are you?” 

“In a way. Part of me had sealed him up in a box and put him away forever. I suppose, when we didn’t hear anything about him for so long, I assumed that he had left the country.” 

Remus’ gaze slipped out of the window towards the rising sun “I hope he’s nowhere near Britain. I hope he’s somewhere living a mediocre, miserable life and regretting his decisions. I hope,” he added guiltily “That he’s making better choices.” 

“Or choosing better friends.” 

Remus looked at Sirius sharply; Sirius frowned back. 

“The three of us, were we not good friends to him? I know we ragged on him, but...I mean, listen to you. You still love him, in a way. So do I. Did he not love us enough?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if you  _ can  _ love someone ‘enough’. I think-” Remus’ breath hitched “I think what counts is what you do with that love. If you’re driven by it, or lock it away; if it’s selfless, or selfish. Maybe Peter  _ did  _ feel left out, but that’s no excuse to join the Death Eaters. Maybe he did love his friends but he made the decision to save himself rather than remain loyal. Maybe he tried to protect us. Perhaps-” Remus hesitated. 

“Go on.” 

“Perhaps Peter betrayed us as a form of loyalty to his ideals.” 

Sirius recoiled “He was hardly a beacon of blood purity! He became an animagus to help you with your transformations!” 

“Well, yes.” Remus admitted impatiently, slightly off put by Sirius’ knee-jerk defense of the traitor in question “But he was always rather, well, pragmatic about it. It wasn’t purposeful, I don’t think. If you’d gone to Peter’s instead of James’ when you escaped the Blacks, he would hardly have held you up at the door until you promised him a portion of your Uncle Alphard’s inheritance in return, but-” 

Remus left the accusation hanging. His partner didn’t respond for a moment, eyes far-off and shoulders tense. 

“He did need a fair amount of persuading to become an animagus.” Sirius scritched at his early-morning stubble “But then again, it  _ was  _ an insane idea.” 

“It was  _ your _ idea, of course it was.” 

“And James’. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the idea that the man had sense.” Sirius amended fondly. 

“Of course.” Remus chuckled, before sobering “It feels as if we should be dredging up his bad qualities, too. To even things out.” 

“Yeah.” Sirius laughed painfully “I wish-” 

Remus nodded encouragingly. 

“-I wish we could have known thirty-five-year-old James. I wish  _ Harry  _ could’ve. God,” Sirius scoffed “I hate Peter, even if I just said a part of me still loves him.” 

“And here we come to the crux of the matter.” Remus pointed out, smiling humorlessly “You realise we can’t be so indecisive if we do come across Peter, especially if we do so in a combat situation.” 

“Oh, I know.” Sirius agreed darkly “If he’s a threat, I can deal with him. Can you?” 

Remus thought of James and Lily, of Harry, of strange blood in his mouth and the kernel of anger that would probably sit inside him for the rest of his natural life “Yes.” 

“Good.  _ Jesus _ .” 

“Do I wanna know?” 

“Merlin and Morgana!” Remus jumped, hand flying to his wand before he realised that the voice had come from the fireplace, where a round, dark haired face was looking at them wrly. 

“Alice.” Sirius exhaled “What brings you here?” 

“Snape.” 

As one, Remus and Sirius slid off the sofa and onto their knees in front of the fire. 

“What about him?” 

“I was thinking about what happened to him after the war- he visited Lily in hospital-” 

“He what?” 

“-and disappeared, then what? Because I seem to remember, and Frank agrees, that he wasn’t on the wanted list pinned up in the Aurors’ Office despite being a known Death Eater. If he did half of what Lily’s memories say he did, there’s no way they’d dismiss him as a negligible pawn, so clearly there was a reason he wasn’t actively being hunted. That begs the question: was Snape granted clemency, and if so by whom and why? Anyway,” Alice smiled pleasantly as if she hadn’t just released a barrage of potentially investigation-altering information “I’ve got an appointment at St. Mungo’s to get to. Bye now!” 

And she was gone. 

Remus felt himself smiling “It’s a good job we know so many aurors.” 

“You’re telling me.” Sirius frowned “Do you think Alice might be onto something?” 

“It’s possible. Snape most definitely bought into Voldemort’s ideals while we were at school, but there  _ is  _ always the possibility that he may have changed.” 

“Or found himself in a situation in which it was advantageous for him to appear to do so.” Sirius added sardonically. 

Remus quirked an eyebrow “Indeed. What’s more, there is the potential that Lily may have had something to do with his disappearance.” 

“Lily?” Sirius scoffed “You think  _ Lily  _ would let him off the hook? For being a  _ Death Eater _ ” 

Internally, Remus felt his patience fraying. Externally, he forced himself to remain sanguine. 

“No, I’m not suggesting that at all.  _ However,  _ you and I both know the state Lily was in after the end of the war. If Snape did visit her in hospital- which, I might remind you, would have had to be within four days of her husband dying- he would have found her in an emotionally vulnerable position and perhaps more than usually willing to forgive Snape’s sins  _ against her _ for the sake of some sense of stability or closure.” 

Sirius’ jaw tightened “She should have talked to us.” 

“ _ You  _ weren’t talking to me.” Remus reminded him pointedly, allowing a little more bite into his tone “I’m not suggesting that Lily’s actions were blameless, but I think we can safely say that discussing a fifteen-year-old depressive episode isn’t the most productive use of our time at the current moment.” 

“You’re the one who brought it up.” 

“Yes, but only to suggest that Lily might have had some kind of involvement- I never said she was the one who hid him!” 

Remus’ agitation finally seemed to register in Sirius’ mind; he stood up. 

“We should talk to Dumbledore about it. If anyone would know, it would be him.” 

“Right.” Remus nodded “You get a letter off to him. Are you up to watching the last memory this afternoon? For now I’m going to check Flourish and Blotts for a book I might need for that mermaid research.” _ and I’m not intending to take you to the shop with me _ .

Sirius, unsurprisingly, appeared very amenable to the implication of time apart to decompress.

“I’ll take a walk after I’ve sent the letter, pick us something nice up for lunch.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Remus said, giving Sirius a relatively enthusiastic kiss to soothe any lingering hard feelings. A few minutes later, he was stepping into the floo. 

**** 

Because it was located in a muggle block of flats, Sirius and Remus had had to make multiple adjustments to their home when they moved in. The floo was the most notable of these, given that the the flat didn’t come with a fireplace, but more subtle changes had also been made including a discreet expansion of the master bedroom, some careful finangeling to ensure that the utilities co-operated with the use of magic in the house, and a complicated set of wards and charms around the unit not only for security, but to ensure that any muggle observer would just so happen to look away in time to miss the arrival of messenger owls or any other sign of magical activity. Technically, this violated their purchase agreement on the basis that they weren’t permitted to alter the exterior of the building, but frankly Sirius didn’t care; if there was anything his years as an auror had taught him, let alone his experience during the war, it was that a little bit of healthy paranoia never hurt anyone and could very well save your life. 

Paranoia could not, alas, do anything to prevent the subpar naming of pets. Resultantly, Sirius’ owl had had the misfortune of starting one New Years’ Eve an anonymous owlet and emerging into 1991 with the sophisticated name Rocketman Elton John. Elton, as he was generally referred to for the sake of his dignity, had hated Sirius with a passion ever since. Resultantly, he habitually forced Sirius to stand with his arm sticking out of the window like an idiot for extended periods of time before deigning to actually deliver the letter tied around his leg. 

It was for this reason that Sirius opened the window bridging the kitchen and living room with his eyes sternly fixed on Elton, and it was for this reason that Sirius registered that the flapping of wings near his head could not, in fact, be coming from the bird on his arm who was  _ meant  _ to be moving. 

Sirius shoved his head out of the window, wand in one hand and owl still in the other. Whatever had been there was gone. Disquieted, Sirius released Elton with a stern toss and drew the windows shut, smoothly transitioning into a diagnosis of the wards. They held steady, not that that was much comfort- steady wards around the exterior did nothing about hidden observers beyond their range, and something told Sirius the flapping of wings had not been that of a disinterested pigeon. In fact, it tickled a very similar spot in Sirius’ mind to that of the bird he had seen from the muggle pub’s beer garden after the reading of Lily’s will…

He changed into Padfoot on the spot. Immediately, his sight dulled and his smell heightened, mapping the world in an entirely different way. He set his front paws on the window ledge, clambering up on two legs and straining to sniff all over it. The fresh smell of Remus, the old scent of Harry, a build-up of owl, an offensive undercurrent of Windolene, and-  _ no _ . A growl rumbled out of Padfoot’s throat, territorial and threatening. He would recognise Peter Pettigrew’s scent anywhere. After all, more than enough full moons at Hogwarts had begun with Peter perched on Sirius’ furry shoulders as they waited for Prongs and his antlers to wrestle Moony into something at least resembling submission. 

Padfoot whirled, nose to the ground, grunting as he strained to catch up the scent again. Suddenly, the floo flared green, although it looked yellow in this form. Remus stepped out, satchel swinging from his arm. Padfoot stiffened. 

“I forgot my wallet. What are you doing?” 

He was ignored. Padfoot leapt on the bag, snarling, scattering its contents across the floor. Most of them came out coated in Wormtail’s scent, but no rat emerged. 

“Sirius!” 

A hand fell on the scruff of his neck, not painful but insistent. Padfoot barked. Remus let go as he changed back, looking by no means pleased. 

“What on God’s green earth-” 

“When was the last time you took that bag anywhere?” 

Remus frowned “To the shops, or to the Ministry with Harry, maybe. Why?” 

“Have you left it unattended while out recently?” 

“No. Sirius, I think you need to take few deep breaths and-” 

Sirius seized him by the shoulders “He’s been in our home!” 

“Who?” 

“Peter!” Sirius exploded, his grip tightening, aware that he seemed crazed but unable to stop it “Peter fucking Pettigrew! In his animagus form. Not very recently, but judging by his scent not more than a few weeks ago!” 

Remus took Sirius’ hands by the wrists and disengaged them from his body, but the colour draining from his face was proof enough that he took Sirius seriously. 

“You smelt him as Padfoot?” 

Sirius nodded. 

“And you’re absolutely sure it’s him, not just some generic rat?” 

Sirius nodded again “He doesn’t smell the same as a normal rat, there’s some of his human scent mixed in.” 

“Fuck.” Remus swore emphatically “Well, I suppose that invalidates the question of whether or not he was involved. One mystery solved, and all that.” 

“Bugger that.” Sirius kicked at a loose pen; then his heart skipped a beat “Your bag. The Ministry with Harry.” 

Remus sat down heavily on the arm of the sofa “You don’t think…” 

“That he was the one to confundus Harry? Yep. Suits him, doesn’t it? Sneaky arsehole, bastard-” he turned to Remus very calmly “Bugger ‘if he becomes a threat’. ‘Peter so much as looks at Harry again I’ll gut him before he can squeak.” 

Remus gave him a searching look, but all his said was “Let’s see about some lunch now, shall we?” 

Sirius let the matter be closed. He’d had enough on the subject for one day and found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he had never met Peter Pettigrew at all. 


	16. Gonna Take On The World Some Day

As befitting any good conspiracy, curfew had long passed when Harry, four Weasleys, Hermione and Luna filed furtively into a disused classroom somewhere not far from Gryffindor Tower. It was an inconvenient location for both Hermione and Luna but they had all agreed that it would not be wise to set up base anywhere closer to Umbridge’s stomping ground- especially given that their least favourite professor had spent yesterday’s DADA lesson reassuring the class in no uncertain terms that there was not, and never would be, anything threatening about dolls. 

At least Umbridge had refrained from expecting answers from anyone but Draco, although judging by the way Hermione had started whispering about that particular fact as soon as they were out of the door, Harry guessed that would prove to be a hollow comfort. The thought left him tense and yearning for something like a match to throw himself into, but the Quidditch season was yet to enter full swing. Anyhow, they had a plan to focus on, and Harry was determined they were going to do it justice. 

He hopped up onto a desk, sending puffs of dust swirling into the moonlight, and also his lungs. 

Ginny raised an eyebrow scornfully as he coughed and spluttered, though her lips were twitching “You don’t even know a dust removal spell. Only children, I swear...” 

Harry shrugged unrepentantly but carefully dumped his bag on the ground to allow Ginny to hop up onto the desk behind him, her shoulder resting perpendicularly against his. When the others had similarly settled, they turned to Hermione as one. She stared back at them, slightly unsettled by the attention. 

“Well, Oh Mighty Mistressmind,” George prompted with a kind grin “What are we here for?” 

“And why in the middle of the night?” Fred added, feigning a loud yawn. 

Hermione gained her feet, dark eyes brightening in what Harry could only describe as self-satisfaction. 

“To make a statement.” 

“To express officially one’s opinion; or, the name given to a gafflet’s nest.” 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed slightly at Luna’s intervention, but thankfully she didn’t try to challenge her on the existence of gafflets (whatever they were) or get into any other petty argument that would delight and irritate the both of them in equal measure. Instead, Hermione simply took an object the size of a matchbox out of her robes, placed it onto the desk in front of her, and tapped it with her wand. Under the influence of a re-enlargement charm, the matchbox grew into a contraption with a passing similarity to an overhead projector, albeit wooden and with a tray containing a neat rectangular piece of parchment rather than a clear sheet of film. 

“Mum’s printing press!” Harry exclaimed, leaning forwards “I remember mum using it to-” he trailed off, flushing. 

A grin crept slowly onto Ron’s face “To what?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Really?” Ron prodded, stretching out his legs “Because I detect a hint of embarrassment.” 

“So do we, good brother.” Fred agreed, a strikingly similar look on his face. 

“ _ Childhood  _ embarrassment.” George added, practically salivating. 

Harry buried his face in his hands and groaned. 

“Mum used it to make copies of my drawings when I was a little kid so I could give one to my uncles and one to the portrait of my dad on the landing.” 

The reactions to his confession were diverse. Ginny let out a high-pitched, albeit slightly mocking, ‘awww’ right in his ear. Hermione started looking at him as if he was an adorable but half-drowned cat. Neville, on the other hand, was caught between a snigger and a genuine smile while all three of the Weasley brothers present outright laughed. Luna’s reaction was the most unexpected, although it shouldn’t have been. Meeting his eyes with startling intensity, she smiled and said “My dad used to do the same for me. I didn’t have any uncles, though, and my mum’s portrait was on the back of a door.” 

Harry summoned a smile in return “I bet your drawings were miles better than mine, though.” 

Luna, once again with her trademark dreamy expression, nodded solemnly “Probably.” 

Thankfully, Hermione quickly put aside the fact that she herself had participated in their little tangent and cleared her throat. 

“ _ As I was saying _ , we’re going to run a surprise poster campaign, using Harry’s mum’s old printing press- it can replicate an original up to a hundred times.”

George nodded, tapping his lower lip with his thumb “Can it replicate charms?” 

Hermione shook her head. 

“Dammit. Alright, you said covert?” 

“Yes. That’s sort of Harry’s part of the plan.” 

And suddenly everyone’s eyes were on him. Harry smiled tightly and ducked down, hauling his bag into his lap. As he undid it, he found himself oddly nervous, wondering absurdly what he would do if the map was torn or the cloak suddenly didn’t work, notwithstanding the fact that it had survived as a family heirloom for centuries. 

“This was my dad’s.” he said simply, holding the shimmery fabric out for a moment before grinning quickly and chucking it over both his and Ginny’s heads. Outside the cloak, the others gasped and clamoured forwards. Inside, Ginny turned to Harry and grinned, a flash of white teeth in the gloom inches from Harry’s face. Then the cloak was ripped away and being handled by two Weasleys who looked like Christmas had come early. 

“Careful.” 

They nodded absently, but their grip on the ancient fabric did loosen. Harry turned his attention back to his bag, pulling out the map.

“There’s also this.” 

“Parchment?” 

Harry huffed and hopped off the desk, putting the map down in his place. 

“Watch;” he tapped the parchment “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” 

Just like it had the only time Harry had seen the map used before, green ink welled up from nowhere and spread across the front, spelling in a careful hand - either his dad’s or Peter Pettigrew’s-  _ The Marauder’s Map _ . Then the parchment unfolded itself and Harry stepped back, watching with no small sense of pride as his friends oohed and ahhed over the tiny feet fluttering all over the paper halls. He was interested to note that Professor Flitwick appeared to have settled down for the night in the staff room, and that the head girl had taken leave of her rounds to nip to the Astronomy Tower, probably to smoke. 

“Where did you  _ get  _ this, Harry?” Ginny asked, gently tracing Dean Thomas’ path across the boys’ dorm. 

“My dad and my uncles made it when they were here- around fifth year I think? Look.  _ Mischief managed _ .” 

The parchment folded itself up pertly, suddenly looking innocent as could be. 

“Now try opening it, but don’t say ‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good’.” 

“That’s an awfully long password.” Hermione observed. 

Harry shrugged. His family weren’t exactly known for keeping it low-key. 

“Let me in.” Ginny commanded, jabbing at the map with her wand. 

As Harry predicted, words began to scrawl themselves across the front of the map, which stayed pointedly folded: 

_ Mr Moony would like to entreat the individual to put the parchment down and walk away before they see something they are clearly not cultured enough to understand.  _

“Who’s that?” 

“My uncle Remus.” 

Ginny’s jaw dropped “ _ Remus? _ ” 

Harry nodded “He can be a right bastard when he wants to be.”

More words appeared:

_ Mr. Wormtail would like to enquire what the individual’s business is asking to be let into a piece of parchment, anyway.  _

Harry’s lips thinned. 

_ Mr. Padfoot adds that if the individual insists on a second attempt, he would advise they put a little more effort in.  _

And then…

_ Mr. Prongs hints that though he appreciates the directness, he is interested to see what the individual comes up with next and would suggest that they conduct themselves with more... dignity.  _

“Sassy little shits, weren’t they?” Ron said with a smile “So we can use this to sneak around without being seen, and no-one but us will be able to read it. Brilliant.” 

Harry nodded. 

“That’s mint, that is.” Neville agreed, prodding the map experimentally. 

Ron frowned “But only so many people can use it at once. We’ll have to go in groups.” 

“Yeah.” Harry tucked the map back into his bag and turned to take the cloak from the twins, waggling his fingers insitently when they proved reluctant to give it up “I was thinking Hermione, Luna, and maybe Neville should go solo to do the areas around the house common rooms- that way you can make a quick escape- then Fred and George can take the cloak and me, Ron, and Ginny could take the map?” 

“What about near Hufflepuff? And won’t it be very risky for Hermione to be seen sneaking out the evening a bunch of anti-purism posters just  _ happen  _ to be going up?”

Hermione bristled, arms folding across her chest.

“Thank you for your concern, Ronald, but in case it escaped your notice I  _ am  _ capable of sneaking about unseen.” 

“Yeah,  _ Ronald _ .” Ginny tittered, sharing a look with Luna which reminded Harry painfully of the kind his mum sometimes used to share with Alice.

Ron flushed bright red, but muttered “Hufflepuff, though.” 

“That  _ is _ a problem-” Fred started. 

“-and well spotted-” 

“-didn’t think you had it in you, little brother-”

“-we’ll make something useful of you yet.” George concluded, smirking at Ron with something bordering on actual pride. 

Hermione broke the ensuing confused silence, looking even more annoyed “What  _ is  _ the problem?”

“If the corridors around every house’s common area but Hufflepuff’s are covered in posters, then it’s kind of obvious that whoever put the posters up came from the common room they centre on, so then it’s obvious no-one who put the posters up  _ did  _ come from Hufflepuff, which means they know we must be in a house that isn’t Hufflepuff.” Ron replied, ending the rush of words with a gulp of air. 

“Right.” Harry frowned “So we need to recruit someone from Hufflepuff?” 

“Or,” Fred interjected, pretending to clean under his fingernails with his wand “Make sure the area outside Hufflepuff is covered in posters, which-” 

“-after seven years’ hard sneaking-”

“-snooping-” 

“-prying-”

“-and dissembling-”

“- we feel confident that we can achieve-”

“- _ without  _ magical gadgets-” 

George winked “-of others’ make, at least.” 

Harry laughed “Alright then, let’s go. We’ve got some night left!”

“Harry.” 

“Hmm?”

Hermione bit her lip to hide a smile “We haven’t got any posters yet.” 


	17. Why you creepin' 'round here?

Alice set Remus' letter down on her desk, but didn’t let go. It had not been as illuminating as she'd hoped it would be. After asking after Alice’s health, it had relayed a big fat 'no comment' on the Snape situation from Dumbledore, then enquired concerningly as to whether Neville had reported any large disturbances at school, given that Remus and Sirius had seen neither hide nor hair of Harry's handwriting since his letter the first night of term. When Alice replied she’d say that Neville's own letters suggested Harry was at least still alive, but that something seemed to be preoccupying their little gang. What she wouldn’t say was that she, too, was restless and worried. Frustration was chafing at her. 

Of course, she understood why Remus and Sirius had somewhat marginalised her in their illicit investigation - she couldn’t entirely be trusted to remember what someone  _ wasn’t  _ supposed to know, and she was having to keep a diary very stringently to make sure she didn’t miss appointments- but on the other hand her years of exemplary service as an auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix should have stood for something. Not to mention that Lily had been  _ her _ best friend, too; she was just as invested. The boys forgot that sometimes, getting lost in the remnants of their schoolboy camaraderie of  _ Unus pro omnibus, omnes pro uno _ . 

But perhaps she was being harsh. After all, who was to say that Remus and Sirius didn’t have hosts of friends outside each other. Their New Years’ parties certainly tended to be well populated. 

Absently, Alice reached up to the shelf of remembralls above her desk. It was a bold collection, ranging from basic glass globes to one made of cut crystal set in gold plate. As almost always, they were pulsing gently, adding a diffusion of soft red light to the gold streaming in through the curtains. Frank had joked once that they should charm her remembralls black and yellow, or else people might get the idea she had something like Gryffindor pride. As if summoned, the door clicked open and Frank entered, setting down a cup of tea in her favourite mug with a brief smile before wandering off again, nose buried in a report. Alice’s stomach was warmed before the tea even hit it. For a brief moment she considered opening up to Frank about Snape and the potion and how  _ weird  _ it was to wander through Lily’s memories, how lucky Alice and Frank were that they had two whole decades of photos and teas and kisses and Neville together. But Alice had never quite stopped feeling guilty about her unplanned early retirement, even though it absolutely wasn’t her fault- and Frank was busy, focussing on the wheels of justice it was his responsibility to set in motion, not in need of yet another dossier of information to process.

Alice’s hand returned to the rememberalls, trailing gently over them. With a gentle smile, she stalled on a small, cheap one decorated in peeling orange and blue flower stickers. It had been Lily’s, given to Alice years ago with a casual “You collect these, don’t you? If you drop it, do it somewhere more exciting than Cokeworth. I rolled it all the way down the high street once, and no-one said a thing.”

It flared bright red, warm like a living thing when Alice closed her fingers around it. Gently, she picked it up and gave it an experimental toss. 

“What am I forgetting, then?” 

Something about...Cokeworth. Cokeworth. Near Birmingham. Now-faded industrial town. Colliery turned into a shopping centre. Cokeworth, home of- Alice’s fingers clenched on the remembrall, then on the handle of her cooling mug. 

She would drink her tea, and then she would get her cloak. 

**** 

Sweat was beading on the back of Sirius’ neck. It was very undignified. Blacks didn’t face authority figures and  _ sweat _ . But still. 

“You’re a fine auror, Black, but I have to wonder if the...resonances of this case are getting to you.” Kingsley rumbled, sounding genuinely regretful. 

“They’re not,” Sirius reassured him, flashing a confident-looking smile “What can I say to convince you?” 

“You could start with explaining how you supposedly  _ smelt  _ a wanted criminal in your flat.” 

“Right.” Sirius shifted in his chair, which was much less comfortable than Kingsley’s looked “Can you promise not to arrest me?” 

“No.” 

“Right.” Sirius repeated “Right, fair enough. Well, the truth is...I’m a dog.” 

Sirius’ declaration didn’t have quite the intended effect; instead of lifting in realisation, Kingsley’s brows pulled down even more tightly and he leant forwards as if preparing to leap over his wide oak desk and restrain Sirius until the healers came. 

“No you’re not. You’re human.” 

“Right.” Sirius said yet again. He hadn’t been this nervous since he was called to McGonagall’s office in fifth year for what turned out to be a truly harrowing lecture on the nature of loyalty and the importance of social responsibility. 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

Like a particularly piercing statue, Kingsley continued to stare at him and...oh Merlin, that was  _ pity  _ creeping into his expression.  _ Fuck it.  _

Sirius transformed into Padfoot and promptly threw himself aside to avoid a streak of light and sizzling magical energy. Mid-roll, he transformed back. 

Panting slightly, he threw his arms up into very non-threatening jazz hands. 

“Ta da?” 

Kingsley did not lower his wand. He did, however, refrain from lobbing another hex in Sirius’ direction, so he would count it as a win. 

“You’re an animagus.” 

Sirius nodded. 

“Unregistered.” 

Another nod. 

“Why?” 

“School.” Sirius replied, still on the floor “To help Remus with his transformations.”

“And to cause havoc.” 

“Well…” 

“Get up.” 

Sirius obliged, feeling leaden and certain that he was about to get the sack and a ticket to Azkaban. 

But Kingsley simply regarded him sharply for a moment before nodding curtly. 

“A dog could prove useful. I won’t report you. Pettigrew is one too, then, I suppose? That’s how you...smelt him?” 

“Yes,” Sirius breathed “He’s a rat. As I said, I’m fairly certain he snuck into Remus’ bag.” 

“I believe that.” Kingsley folded himself back into his chair “Shame we can’t justify arresting him without getting you arrested too.” 

Frowning, Sirius nodded and turned to leave. 

“I’ll ask some prodding questions. Thanks, sir.” 

“Try Jephson.” 

Sirius turned back, but Kingsley was seemingly occupied by a pile of papers, unwilling to engage. Sirius shut the door softly and made a beeline for Jephson’s desk. She was  _ genuinely _ occupied with a pile of papers, and didn’t seem thrilled about the company, although she acknowledged Sirius with a polite “Yes?” 

“I just wanted to compare notes about the poisoning cases. Have you got any ideas about how the doses might have been administered? I’ve been assuming it was via ingestion in Evans’ case, and probably Cudgeon’s too, but I was wondering if you’ve found any evidence to say one way or the other.” 

Jephson pursed her lips, eyes sweeping around with practiced care; Sirius wondered whether Mad-Eye Moody was involved in training these days or whether Jephson was just particularly cautious. Evidently satisfied, Jepshon shifted a stack of files to let Sirius perch on the side of her desk. Sirius hesitated only slightly before hopping up.

“It’s weird.” Jephson stated, pitching her voice low “I was thinking the same kind of thing, so when Southerton and I questioned the witnesses, I made sure I asked them all if they’d seen Cudgeon eat or drink anything. You know what? None of them had.” 

“That doesn’t mean Cudgeon didn’t ingest anything, just that no-one saw him do it.” 

“True,” Jephson tapped her quill against the desk “but they were apparently right in the middle of the bar area, so it could really be that no-one saw anything.”

“They?” 

Jephson nodded.

“That’s the thing- we’ve been thinking Cudgeon was drinking alone but at least two witness have said they definitely saw someone with him.” 

Sirius’ eyebrows flew up and he leant in closer “That’s major. How come you haven’t mentioned it in the briefing?” 

“Well,” Jephson scowled “Southerton.” 

Sirius blinked “Southerton? He’s a git, but he’s not obstructing the investigation is he?” 

“Pretty much.” Jephson bit “He’s alright with us saying they saw Cudgeon with someone, but he won’t let me say who I think it is and...well, he’s the old-timer and I’m the rookie, so I have to do as he says, don’t I?” 

“No.” 

“What?” 

“No.” Sirius caught Jephson’s eye, suddenly feeling very old “You’re young, but you’re just as much an auror as everyone here. And we’re a team, but you have to follow your own instincts, here and elsewhere. That’s life. Now, who do you think Cudgeon was with?” 

“Lucius Malfoy.” 

“ _ Malfoy? _ ” 

“Don’t give me that look, I know-” 

Sirius chuckled dryly “That was not disbelief over his capacity or willingness to do it, trust me. Go on.” 

_ It’s just disbelief induced by the small fact that we saw him in Diagon Alley at the exact time Davey Cudgeon was being murdered. _

Jephson abruptly grabbed a jotter pad from her desk, flicked through it at lightning speed, then shoved a page under his nose. 

“There. Tell me that doesn’t sound like Malfoy.” 

Sirius read. Six words stood out in Jephson’s rounded handwriting:  _ aristocratic-looking, blonde, tall, thin, pale,  _ and  _ rich.  _

“That certainly does sound like him. It could be a Yaxley, maybe, but they’re hardly  _ aristocratic.  _ Unless the witness was talking about a Hapsburg chin.” 

Jephson didn’t laugh, but she did relax ever so slightly. Sirius bid her farewell before making his way over to his own desk, mind whirling with thoughts like ‘alibi’ and ‘polyjuice’. Then someone entered the room with a shock of lavender hair and he bolted up again. 

“Tonks!” 

Her brow furrowed “Who?” 

“Tonks.” 

She rolled her eyes, strolling over. Her auror’s badge was pinned to a choker around her neck and she was holding her robes in a bundle under one arm. 

“What’s up?” 

Sirius beckoned her closer. 

“When you saw Lucius Malfoy buy a potion, what was it?” 

“Dunno. The bottle was opaque and I don’t have X-ray vision.” 

“Helpful.” 

“Always.” 

Sirius scrubbed his hands over his face “What did he do after, then? With the potion.” 

Tonks scrunched up her nose in concentration “I’m not sure. I didn’t follow him very far because  _ someone  _ was making a fuss on the other end of the mirror-” Sirius raised an eyebrow “But he didn’t do a whole lot, really. Just walked, shook hands with some woman. Some woman very obviously trying to pretend she  _ wasn’t  _ coming out of Knockturn Alley, but…’You thinking Malfoy might’ve palmed the potion off to someone? Her?” 

“He shook a woman’s hand? Would you describe it as, I don’t know, structured? Or warm?” 

Tonks crouched down, resting her elbow on the edge of his desk, expression alight with interest. Disguises were her  _ thing  _ and had been ever since Sirius started babysitting her on the occasional evening, if not before.

“Is this a hoity-toity pureblood etiquette thing? What would a structured handshake mean? Can it not be structured  _ and  _ warm?” 

Sirius cast his mind back to the distant days of being six years old, forced to sit primly on Grimmauld Place’s hard dining chairs the night before some kind of function, listening to his mother explain the ins and outs of interaction in ‘polite’ society. 

“A structured handshake you have to sort of approach indirectly, the instigator using their wand arm and the other person using the opposite. Then you have to make sure that your palms meet as flatly as possible and that your index finger points straight up the centre of the other person’s arm. You give three sharp shakes up and down, and the instigator has to let go first.” 

“Casual, then.” 

“Very. And it’s for making alliances, not friends, so I think that answers your question about whether or not it’s warm.” 

“So at Black family functions you didn’t shake guests’ hands?” 

Sirius snorted “No. Mother and Father did, and their handshakes were barely less frosty, though they weren’t often entirely structured. Not everyone even offered or accepted a handshake; it’s all a bit overt for the really traditional ones.” 

Tonks nodded, eyes slightly faraway in an expression of intense calculation “So it’s weird that Malfoy just did it on the street? That’s something we should think about?”

“Quite possibly, but not necessarily. Some purebloods like handshaking because it can carry a lot of different levels of significance, moreso than a nod. I don’t know if Malfoy’s one of them. But yeah, very possibly.” Sirius dropped his head into his hands. He felt it was justified. 

“Possibly, possibly, possibly. It’s all ‘maybe, maybe not’ and ‘possibly’. Doing my head in.” 

Tonks, stifling a giggle, pat him on the back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Latin means, according to google, 'all for one and one for all'


	18. Where We’re From, There’s No Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Payoff?? Then further seemingly unrelated mystery?? That's how you plot, right?? Maybe?? Hopefully?? For the reader's sake??

Alice appeared behind a looming Victorian tombstone in the graveyard attached to Our Lady of Devotion, Cokeworth, at- she checked her watch- 10:17am. The brisk wind kicked up a pile of autumn leaves, sending them skittering in Alice’s direction. She tensed, then relaxed again. 

She was alone. 

Hands tucked into her pockets, Alice began to wander the rows of headstones. The grass between them had been trimmed and weeded recently, which was more than could be said of her first (and only prior) visit, accompanying Lily to her mother’s grave. Other than that, the place remained the same, which was useful because she wouldn’t have been able to find it otherwise; frankly Alice was surprised she had. 

(Though, very occasionally, a moment came in which the past felt much more real to her than the present.)

The cemetery gates creaked loudly as she opened them, stepping out onto a residential street lined with three-bed semi-detached houses, most of them faced in greying pebbledash. Not quite middle class, Lily had described herself as. But much more comfortable than Severus, who’d grown up in the half bombed-out leftovers of a Victorian slum if Alice remembered correctly. She’d bet her boots the terrace would have been smartened at least slightly in the intervening years, if not razed completely, but if Snape was laying low in familiar territory it would be a place to start. 

****

Alice spun on her heel and reappeared with a sharp crack, startling a flock of birds from their pylon. A faint nausea was starting to build in the pit of her stomach as a result of so many apparitions, but it was preferable to the endless trawling of terraces and cul-de-sacs she’d spent the first half of her day doing on foot. This was her last stop, anyway: a lonely trail of a dull brick terrace on the edge of Cokeworth, facing off against a new estate under construction and a grey square of gravel with a few chipped pieces of play equipment in it. Unobtrusive and forgotten; the perfect place to hide. 

Wand concealed in the folds of her cloak- which, after the third strange look, Alice had transfigured into a particularly voluminous trenchcoat- Alice muttered a spell intended to trip a broad spectrum of concealment charms, and waited. 

Nothing changed for a moment. Then, like a tug on the hand from a tentative child, the spell drew Alice’s attention to two eyes and a beak watching her from a tree. 

_ An animagus.  _

With a flutter of wings, Severus Snape swooped down to the ground and transformed. 

“Are you going to attack me, Longbottom?” he sneered, voice slightly rough but not lacking in put-on silkiness.

His dark robes hung off his stooped shoulders, his skin was sallow, and purple indents underlined his meanly glinting eyes. 

Alice shook her head. 

“Not if you don’t attack me. Did you kill Lily?” 

Snape straightened “No.” 

“Did you know she would be killed?” 

“No, though naturally I suspected.” 

“Naturally?” Alice echoed, reverting to her auror voice.  _ Detached and alert, Longbottom.  _

“The Dark Lord’s associates do not take kindly to interference in their plans.” 

Alice flexed her grip on her wand.

“The  _ Dark Lord _ ? Old habits die hard, do they?”

Snape’s lip curled contemptously “Indeed.” 

Alice waited for him to say more; he didn’t oblige. 

“What are these ‘plans’, then? How did they involve Lily?”

“I wouldn’t know.” 

_ Patience,  _ Alice reminded herself,  _ be patient. You’re so close.  _

The wind picked up again, ruffling Snape’s lank hair.  _ Too focussed on something else for personal maintenance?  _

“But you thought Lily might get in trouble?” 

Snape’s lips pursed fleetingly. 

“I  _ knew _ she would. She was already “in trouble”, as you say, the moment she came to me.” 

“Came to you?” Alice frowned “About your potion? The one that only affects muggleborns?” 

“Hmm.” Snape regarded Alice down the bridge of his nose “I can hardly claim ownership of the batch in question but, for simplicity’s sake, yes.” 

“Well…” pressure built in Alice’s sternum, a mixture of anticipation and dread “What was Lily doing about it? Why now?” 

“She didn’t say.” 

“Surely-” 

“What do you know already, Longbottom? Make it quick.” 

Alice bristled, but Snape had started scanning the streets around them tensely. If she didn’t comply quickly he would leave, taking whatever information he had accosted her to supply with him. So Alice spoke, outlining in broad strokes the pensive memories, Lily’s distractedness before her death, her sudden interest in archives. When she concluded, Alice eyed Snape shrewdly and guessed:

“You’re under house arrest rather than Azkaban, aren’t you?” her nose wrinkled in distaste “You made a deal.” 

Snape tilted his head, a gesture which Alice took to be as close to a nod as she was going to get. 

“My relative freedom for the destruction of all my notes on the potion, and the name of the spy who was funneling Lily’s work on an antidote back to us.” 

_ Us,  _ Alice noted. An ambiguity of tense. 

“The name being?”

“Pettigrew.” 

_ Of course.  _ If Peter Pettigrew was informing Voldemort of ambush plans and Order members’ identities, then why not also supply him with copied documents? If Snape stayed one step ahead of Lily’s progress in producing an antidote then he could keep adjusting, keep developing, keep his poison working, come out the victor in the two ex-friend’s miniature arms race. 

Alice was certain her eyes were saucers, but her voice remained steady as she made her next deduction. 

“By the time you destroyed your notes, they’d advanced enough that the ones Lily stole couldn’t help her anymore, hadn’t they?” 

“I suspect so.” 

“But if Pettigrew could copy Lily’s notes without her realising, he could have done the same to yours. Which is how the poison that killed Lily and Davy Cudgeon was made.” 

“Eventually.” 

Alice nearly cried. 

“What does that mean?” 

Fabric shifted as Snape crossed his arms, a faint crease appearing between his brows. 

“Four months ago Lily wrote to me expressing concerns that she had found evidence of discussions- I don’t know where- of a potion that could very easily be conceived as the next stage in the development of mine. She investigated further, and we met twice in secret to discuss her findings.”

_ The late evenings, then. Or some of them, at least.  _

“We concluded” Snape finished, tone caught between begrudging and regretful “that the intended potion, _ if  _ brewed correctly, could be a subtler and more sensitive poison than any I managed to produce.” 

A man and child emerged from the direction of the half-built estate, swinging their arms together. 

“How?” 

“Inhalation.” Snape said. 

Then, with one disgusted look at the approaching muggles, he vanished into thin air. 

****

No matter how many times he did it, sneaking out of the dorms never lost its sheen of adventure for Harry. The portrait hole would crack open like the portals in muggle adventure stories; the shadows would shift; the stone-damp air would hang heady with anticipation, or rush in eager drafts towards a new discovery; the world would fold itself into a space of a corridor, and they would be the boldest things in it. 

Harry looked up from the Marauders’ Map and couldn’t help but grin, the excitement settling inside him anew. Sensing the movement, Ginny glanced up from the lurid yellow poster she was charming to the wall and smirked. 

“How long d’ya think it would take to find the Charms classrooms if we poster’ed over all the doors?” she whispered. 

Harry stifled a giggle, checking the map by rote. Ron and Neville were making progress two corridors away, hidden underneath the invisibility cloak. Harry wasn’t so sure how magnamious the twins’ refusal to take it really was, but it let Neville do more than skulk around near Gryffindor Tower so no-one was complaining. Yet. 

Harry handed Ginny another poster, this one dark blue with orange letters spelling  _ Blood Purity? Pure Stupidity.  _

“So Hermione.” 

Ginny bit her lip, eyebrows arching in amusement “It’s catchy.” 

“It is,” Harry agreed “But  _ so  _ Hermione.” 

Ginny stepped back, smiling as she surveyed the chaotic riot of colour and movement she’d created. No-one’s eyes would be skimming over  _ these  _ posters. 

“ _ So _ Hermione.” she eventually agreed “Swap?” 

Harry nodded, carefully shifting the heavy stack of posters and the map to Ginny’s more than capable arms. Their progress was slow but steady, at a pace with the others, whose inky footprints reminded Harry of ants in the crevices of summer baked earth. Occasionally, Harry or Ginny would make a comment to each other, and once they paused to swap the load over again, but they mostly made their way in silence coloured by conspiratorial satisfaction and no small amount of amusement. Harry wouldn’t exactly say that any of the posters they’d created the previous night were _bad_ , but they were also very obviously the product of an evening spent with a limited number of Luna’s paints, a minimum of students who had a way with words, and a hard deadline. In addition to Hermione’s slogan, Ron had offered the suggestion that _Dumbledore, Do Dumble-more!_ within the first ten minutes of their meeting. Neville and Luna had taken their time designing one of the more artistic posters, _End The Cycle! Don’t Toler8 Hate!,_ in which the ‘8’ was drawn as an infinity sign that was broken at the bottom. Fred and George had put a surprising amount of effort into drafting and then enchanting to within an inch of its life a diagram of a Death Eater being caught, imprisoned, and Kissed by a dementor. Hermione had eyed it distastefully and called it gauche, an assessment Harry was inclined to agree with, though he could see where the twins were coming from. Ginny had smirked at her brothers’ contribution then produced an even more detailed picture of a woman in old-fashioned pureblood robes and a man in muggle clothing kissing passionately with the title _Celebration and Innovation_. Harry, who had been watching these productions with an increasing sense of panic, grabbed a brush when they had nearly finished re-printing the last of Ginny’s posters and hurriedly scrawled a picture of a Muggle Studies textbook and the phrase _This Machine Kills Fascists._

“It’s not a machine.” Ron had said.

“It’s Woody Guthrie.” Harry replied.

“It’s a book.” Ron insisted. 

“Nevermind.” Harry had sighed. 

“No,” Neville put in, as cool as could be, “that’s Nirvana.”    
  


Harry’s head had hit the table with a thunk. Now, it narrowly avoided repeating the experiment with a wall as Ginny shoved him into an alcove. 

“Look!” she hissed, shoving the map under his nose. 

The low light of the torches dotted along the walls didn’t penetrate very far into the alcove’s gloom, so Harry had to squint and adjust his glasses to make out what was so interesting. When he did, he nearly gasped. Just around the corner, in an older classroom towards the centre of the school, a dot labelled ‘Dolores Umbridge’ stood within arms reach of a dot labelled ‘Lucius Malfoy’. 

“Coming?” Harry asked, voice as low as it could be while remaining audible. 

“Of course.” Ginny replied scornfully. 

They crept out of the alcove, moving almost as one as they each gazed intently at the map. As they neared the closed classroom door snatches of voice drifted out into the corridor, quiet but not hushed enough to dissipate into the otherwise silent castle. Evidently they hadn’t expected anyone to be near enough to overhear. Heart thudding against his ribcage, Harry crept closer, pressing himself against the cold stone walls. Mr Malfoy was speaking, vowels clipped and posh. 

“ _ -now you have it. I take no pleasure in giving it to you. _ I _ am too wise a man to question his wishes, Dolores.”  _

Ginny settled silently on the other side of the door.Harry nodded pointedly at the map in her grasp. She rolled her eyes. 

_ “As am I, Lucius. However,”  _ \- Harry tensed at the sound of footsteps, relaxing only when Ginny shook her head-  _ “My work is substantially more delicate.”  _

_ “On the contrary, Dolores, I hear you have developed quite the reputation.”  _

_ “Well,” - _ a giggle-  _ “One does what one can, with the...resources made available.”  _

A rap like a cane on flagstones. 

_ “Have you chosen one?”  _

_ “I have my ideas. Don’t you worry so, I think you’ll approve.”  _

_ “ _ I  _ will be the judge of that. I’ll spread the word, shall I?”  _

_ “No.”  _

_ “No?”  _ \- a snap of fabric-  _ “It would do you well to remember that you are merely a part in this, Dolores.”  _

_ “A part I will play when the time is ripe, Lucius. Patience is a virtue, as I’m sure your dear mother told you.”  _

_ “Patience, like all virtues, must know it’s place.”  _

_ “Good day, Lucius, I-”  _

Ginny darted silently across the door, grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him back to the alcove they’d emerged from. Eyes wide, Ginny dumped the stack of posters and transfigured them into a rudimentary tea cosy- Harry snatched the map off the top just in time, watching with bated breath as Umbridge exited the classroom and stood like a sentry in the corridor, tiny feet treading and re-treading the same spot. Finally, she walked off, heading away from where Harry and Ginny hid. Fifteen minutes and one near-miss with the twins later, Umbridge climbed the stairs in her office and disappeared. 

The two looked at each other for a long moment, Harry trying to signal as best he could that he would really rather prefer if they dealt with whatever Umbridge was up to  _ later _ . Either it worked or Ginny had been thinking the same thing, because she simply slumped against the alcove wall and sighed. 

“We’re not getting any sleep tonight, are we?” 

Harry pointed his wand at the tea cosy and managed to turn it, more or less, back into posters. 


	19. The Silver Lining Around Your Fence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The passage of time whomst
> 
> (For real though I WILL finish this thing and I am still invested in it, never fear- even though it might not have turned out the kind of story you or I were expecting so far, I at least am enjoying it) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Hermione woke up with the first low light streaming through the small windows studding the very top of the dungeon walls. For a moment, she lay under her heavy quilt and the cornflower blue blanket she brought from home, trying to will herself back to sleep despite the squirming anticipation making itself known in her gut. When that failed, she slipped out of bed, gathered her things, and padded into the common room to begin their most recent excuse of a DADA essay: ‘Discuss three ways in which curiosity can be dangerous’. The very sight of it inspired a curling sort of disgust in Hermione, but she was bound and determined to turn it into something of academic worth, no matter how ludicrous the title. 

At a quarter to seven, a couple of younger students walked past Hermione’s corner table in the direction of the exit. She froze, tickling her chin with the quill in an attempt to imply that she was stuck in thought but entirely focussed on her housemates’ reaction to what would greet them outside. 

They didn’t disappoint. The first one into the corridor froze, the second nearly bowling her over. She scoffed. 

“What the hell is this, then?” 

“Some bloody Hufflepuff’s got their feelings hurt, probably. Circe and Morgana.” 

“Well fuck that, not our problem. Come on.” 

The door swung shut. 

_ Well alright _ , Hermione reminded herself,  _ you expected some resistance _ . 

She lasted ten more minutes before following her housemates out, meandering to breakfast at a leisurely pace. If she said so herself, their little group had done a good job: nearly every corridor she took was decorated by at least a few different posters, and although the main rush to breakfast wouldn’t be for at least another half hour, Hermione ran into more than a few students eyeing the walls with expressions ranging from delighted to irate. She tried not to look too smug when it turned out the Great Hall was the epicentre of a storm of speculation. Though the hall’s cavernous vaulted ceiling ate sounds like a hippogriff eats ferrets, Hermione caught snatches of  _ who  _ and  _ why  _ and  _ how  _ as she crossed to the Slytherin table. Once seated, Hermione dug into a heap of toast and listened. 

“It’s unseemly,” Pansy Parkinson sneered, delicately dissecting an apple a little to Hermione’s left “ _ Clearly _ it’s the work of some uncultured muggleborn with no notion of the way things should  _ really  _ be done.” she sniffed “They’re undermining themselves from the start.” 

“I quite agree,” put in Theodore Knott, nicking a slice of apple from Pansy’s plate “Don’t get me wrong, they can whine as much as they like in the privacy of their own homes, but plastering the walls in bits of paper? It’s defiling the place.” 

Hermione hid her frown in a mug of tea, refocusing on a group she recognised as seventh years. They seemed to be in heated debate.

"I'm not saying I agree with it!" a Nepalese girl- Dhanvi? Dhriti?- insisted, scowling "But you have to admit, it was sneaky. And some of the posters are quite clever." 

" _ Clever?  _ They're the most patronising bullshit I've ever seen." her blonde companion rejoined. 

A pale boy who Hermione was fairly sure used to be a beater on the quidditch team cleared his throat.

"They have a point, though. I mean, with the diversity thing. It's hard to make progress if you're just listening to the same people over and over again. And how great a wizard are you really if people who can't do any magic at all make you that insecure." 

"It's not insecurity, it's appreciating our gift." 

"But that's the thing," probably-Dhanvi said, sounding like she was rehearsing a well-worn argument "It's  _ our  _ gift. You don't have less or more of it depending on who your parents are. I mean, Jack's dad's no squib, is he?" 

"No." the blonde reluctantly admitted "Y'know from here it sounds like you  _ do  _ agree with them." 

"So what if she does?" 

"Yeah, so what if I do? Or at least, so what if I don't agree with the pureblood fanatics like Parkinson over there? You gunna ditch me?" 

"No." the blonde responded mullishly "That would create unnecessary conflict." 

"Yeah, like blood supremacists and serial killers with muggleborn fetishes." 

"Speaking of," the pale boy nudged his friend "There's that boy whose mum died, just come in. Wonder what he thinks about it?" 

Hermione stifled the urge to cough loudly and pointedly. 

"Maybe he did it-  _ I'd _ be pissed off enough to."

"Just him? 'Reckon Granger's got something to do with it too?" 

"Granger?" 

"The prefect." 

Hermione's ears were burning. 

"Why would she have anything to do with it?" 

"She's the one the doll thing happened to." 

"That's a fair point. Have you done the Divination homework?" 

The heat from the mug in Hermione's hands was fading. She downed it with a jerk and stood, informing herself firmly that she was  _ not. Panicking.  _

She dreaded to think what their parents would say if they were caught. 

**** 

One evening, while they were hunkered down in HQ's sitting room, surrounded by soft furnishings but too pregnant to get truly comfortable, Lily had turned to Alice and asked: “Did you know the world nearly ended when I was two?” 

Alice had set down her book with a frown, gesturing for Lily to explain.

“The Missile Crisis. America and Cuba nearly used nuclear weapons against each other and we came  _ this  _ close to Armageddon. As if seeing what happened to those poor people in Japan wasn’t enough.” Lily’s lip had curled in a rare expression of outright disdain and disgust “As if they thought they had the right to halt all of history, and destroy millions of lives, just to show that one of them's more powerful than the other." 

"That's...dire." Alice had concluded, out of her depth and questioning for the hundredth time the efficacy of  _ The Daily Prophet  _ as wizarding Britain's near-sole news source. After all, Alice hadn't even realised the UK was involved in something called a 'Cold War' until Remus had suggested trying to put a 'wiretap' on the floo network. 

"It feels like that's happening again, now." Lily had continued, green eyes fixed on the glacial progress of the clock's hands "Or we're in Nazi Germany, waiting for the other shoe to drop”

“You know," Lily shifted her focus to Alice, quirking an eyebrow "some people say Hitler couldn't have succeeded anywhere but Germany; I think this war proves them wrong. Hitler could've succeeded anywhere there were enough people fanatical enough to believe in him, or selfish enough to not care who he was hurting, or vulnerable enough to be made to comply. It's halfway to happening with Voldemort here. Remus is already treated as a second class citizen, I can't give birth in hospital, I'm just waiting for the law that annuls my marriage...Sometimes,” Lily’s breath had hitched; her eyes, getting redder by the second, had darted almost guiltily in Alice’s direction “I just can't see a way of getting out of this alive." 

"I-"

Alice had shaken her head, hauled herself up, and pulled Lily into as tight a hug as she could manage with two baby bumps between them. 

Lily, who was taller than Alice, rested her head on Alice's shoulder. When she was so close and so vulnerable it was hard not to see how young Lily was; whereas Alice had become used to thinking of herself as going on thirty, Lily was a teenager only last year, had lost her only remaining parent and had to support her husband through losing his in a period of only a few short months, and was becoming a mother when she'd only barely found her footing as an adult herself. It took a strength Alice hadn’t been able to say for sure that she herself possessed- of  _ course  _ Lily would despair sometimes, Alice would be concerned if she didn’t. 

"That's one way of putting it." Lily had replied when Alice told her as much, voice tear-strained but sounding less like it was being wrenched from the pits of Hell "I feel so useless sitting here crying about it when-" 

"Stop right there, love," Alice had admonished, drawing her hand methodically through Lily’s hair "I know you're a hard-headed Gryffindor, but there's nothing wrong with feeling scared. And if you're not going to let your feelings out when you're unable to run a mission because you're too busy growing a human in your womb, when are you? And yes," Alice added, releasing Lily with a teasing glare "Pregnancy is a valid excuse not to duel Death Eaters. You'd collapse in the middle and it would be very embarrassing for everyone." 

Just then, the sitting room door creaked open. Alice and Lily had both gone for their wands by habit, but the newcomer was only James- albeit a James whose whole left side was coated in dried brown blood.

Lily had exclaimed and launched herself at her husband, who caught her at arms’ length with a shaky smile.

“It’s alright, Pete fixed me. It’s- it was-” his hands had trembled visibly “Pete fixed me.” 

“Jesus,” Lily sobbed “Him and the others?" 

"Pristine," James replied, thumbs beginning to rub small circles on Lily’s forearms, whether consciously or not Alice hadn’t been able to tell "It went fine except for…” 

Gently, Lily had set her hand on James’ hip, barely rippling the expensive blue fabric of his robes. 

“Except for that.”

“Lily?” 

Sensing a change in the conversation, Alice had moved to leave, but she didn’t get far. Lily stopped her with a hand on her sleeve and a pleading, panicked look on her tearstained face. 

Then James had been looking at her too, dark eyes dulled from exhaustion and expression pinched in distress.  _ Children,  _ Alice had thought,  _ children having children.  _

Alice clasped Lily’s arm and gave James a long, hard look. 

“No-one’s giving up. And I can promise you, we’ll win in the end. We just have to carry on a little longer.” 

She held Lily’s gaze; finally, with characteristic determination, she had blinked against the tears still streaming down her face and nodded. Alice had smiled, proud the way she reckoned big sisters ought to feel. 

“Now, tell James what you just told me, and then have something to eat and drink, the both of you. Last thing we need is someone collapsing.” 

The door had swung shut behind her to the sound of James’ slightly hysterical laugh. 

****

Harry, despite being physically exhausted, was walking on air. Sure, some of their posters had been torn down or vandalised with ink, but at least half were still up and intact, with the Fat Friar himself diligently defending the  _ Blood Purity? Pure Stupidity!  _ posters near the Hufflepuff common rooms. A few had even been added to. One near the male toilets on the fourth floor had been charmed to sing a rousing chorus of 'World in Unison' whenever anyone walked past. Another had gained the ability to flit about the wall to avoid capture. Most strikingly, a very talented someone had modified one of Luna and Neville's  _ End The Cycle!  _ designs so that it periodically cleared itself to make way for a scrolling list of muggleborn and half-blood notables- including Harry's mum. He'd had to duck into a vacant classroom to breathe for a bit after seeing it. 

Overall, come dinner, Harry was well prepared to note their protest down as a success. Then Dumbledore took to the dias and eyed the assembled school sternly over the lip of his eagle lectern. As the hubbub died down Harry couldn’t help feel that Dumbledore’s brows furrowed particularly deeply when he passed over the Gryffindor table. 

“Though, as you all know, I do not make a habit of addressing the school during mealtimes, I feel compelled to do so today after the appearance of a series of posters.” 

Harry exchanged a knowing glance with Ron, hoping it was lost in the sea of “I knew it”s and “who cares about the bloody posters”s that welled up around them.

Across the Great Hall, Harry could just about discern Hermione’s nose, scrunched up anxiously. 

“While I will not retract the statements made in our conversation four nights’ previous, and will in fact reiterate the fact that this school expects its staff, students, and associates all to condemn bigotry and advocate for inclusion, I must state,” - Harry’s jaw clenched- “that the posters we find ourselves surrounded by today set a dangerous precedent.” 

“For what, shitty art?” Dean whispered; Seamus snickered. 

“Let me be clear,” Dumbledore continued, voice ringing with grandfatherly censure, “I would never silence discussions of bigotry and its effects, nor deny students the creative expression of their experiences. In fact, I myself am rather keen on the reinterpretation of unpleasant episodes of my past via the medium of knitting.  _ However _ , the content of some of the posters now adorning our halls, and the covert manner of their appearance, can be considered nothing but callous and incisive.” 

‘Callous?’ Ron mouthed, frowning. Harry pulled a face back. 

“Therefore, I and your heads of house-” Dumbledore half turned towards Umbridge, who beamed back in delight from her seat at the teachers’ table- “ implore the student or students responsible for the appearance of the posters last night to come to my office this evening for a conversation. If, by the time curfew falls, an honest culprit has not presented themselves, I shall be forced to deduct fifty points from every house.” 

“Fifty!?” someone screeched. 

“From  _ every  _ house?” 

“We’ll  _ never  _ win the cup if  _ that  _ happens!” 

“If whoever’s responsible doesn’t own up, I swear-” 

“Goodnight!” Dumbledore chirped pleasantly, stepping down from his lectern to disappear from view. 

Harry swallowed, throat dry. He’d imagined being caught- if they were caught- would be a distinctly more private affair. 

The moment students began to return to their common rooms, the conspirators convened in an empty classroom. 

“What are we going to do?” Hermione worried, nibbling on a piece of skin coming loose around her fingernail. 

“We’ve got to own up.” Neville declared, pale but determined. 

Fred snickered, lounging on the teacher’s desk with a piece of chalk in hand.

“So soon? But we were just getting started.”

“What were you planning?” Hermione demanded, worry abandoned in favour of suspicion. 

“Welll-” 

“But do we?” Ron pressed, ignoring the brewing feud in the corner and talking mostly to Harry. 

Harry shrugged “I feel like Dumbledore knows it’s us, so…”

“Sure, Dumbledore knows it’s  _ us _ ,” Ron insisted, gesturing between them “But does Dumbledore know it’s  _ all  _ of us?” 

Harry grinned, cuffing Ron lightly on the shoulder “Ron!”

“Easy there,” Ginny snorted, inserting herself into the conversation with Luna in tow “Let’s keep this PG.” 

“Piss off.” Ron grumbled, expression turning sour as his ears pinked.

Harry rolled his eyes, still smiling lightly “Ron’s had a great idea!” 

“Two times in a week? The world is ending.” one of the twins snorted; trust them to tune in at exactly the right moment for the maximum of sibling bullying. 

But Ron squared his shoulders and met their gazes evenly as he explained “Dumbledore thinks me and Harry, and probably Hermione, did the posters, but he might not think we had help. So if we turn up at his office he’ll expect it and might let his guard down, which means the rest of you can carry on without being too closely watched.” 

“A diversion.” Ginny smirked. 

Ron nodded, a small smile on his lips. 

Hermione’s brows furrowed “But wouldn’t that be betraying Dumbledore’s trust.” 

“Maybe, but,” Ron scuffed his shoes “He’s not acting very  _ Dumbledore  _ right now is he?” 

“That-” Hermione nodded slowly, eyes widening as if she was coming to a monumental realisation “That is very true.” 

Harry tugged up his sleeve to check his watch. 

“Let’s go, then.” 

“You wouldn’t be.” 

“Pardon?” 

Luna didn’t outwardly seem as though she was paying attention, but there was a particularly sharp spark in her eyes as she fiddled with the felt bowtruckles dangling from her Alice band. 

“Dumbledore asked for ‘the student or students responsible for the appearance of the posters last night’. Without Harry we would probably have put the posters up gradually during the day, so he’s responsible for that. I suppose Hermione is responsible for there  _ being _ posters, though. Ron doesn’t need to go.” 

They blinked, Ron looking particularly nonplussed. 

“But I  _ always  _ go.” 

“And,” Hermione added “doesn’t the ‘appearance’ of the posters mean what they look like? So by that logic we’d all be responsible?” 

“Don’t be silly,” Luna frowned “It’s clearly used as a verb in that sentence.” 

Harry buried a snort in the back of his hand. 

“Right,” he said when he’d recovered “thanks, Luna! Hermione, shall we head off?” 

“Yep!” Ron responded, following them to the door. 

They paused. Hermione eyed Ron intently, biting her lip. 

“We’re not going to be  _ angry  _ if you don’t come.” 

“‘Course you aren’t,” Ron shrugged, satchel slipping down his shoulder “But I always come, don’t I? We go together.” 

“Good.” Harry nodded, glad his skin tone hid light blushes well.

Hermione’s gaze softened, lips rounding tenderly in the torchlight “Alright.” 

“Alright.” Ron gulped. 

A wad of paper hit him in the back of the head. 

Not missing a beat, he scooped it up and lobbed it back. 

“Merlin! We’re going!” 

Ron might have started a minor war in the room they left behind, but at least they were smiling as they began their trek towards the headmaster’s wrath. 


	20. No Human Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defence I've been *thinking* about this fic a lot I just haven't had time to, y'know, write it. Sorry!
> 
> CW: not super intense (but deffo not okay by today's standards of maybe-grabbing-students-doesn't-make-them-feel-safe-and-able-to-learn-or-grow-as-people) corporal punishment. 
> 
> And bc the last update was like 80 world events ago, the relevant info to remember for this chapter is a) Alice found Snape, who told her the potion he developed had probably been further developed into a form administered through inhalation, b) Harry, Hermione, and Ron are on their way to Dumbledore's office to turn themselves in for the appearance of the protest posters.

_ Inhalation.  _

The word beat like a drum in Alice’s mind all the way up the hill and to the nearest alleyway, jogging loose old case notes and news stories. In the shelter of the gloomy passage she paused, running the pad of her thumb over a scar on her index finger. 

She steeled herself, finger-combed her hair, then apparated to the Ministry. 

Once there, it took a great deal of effort to get past the suspicious receptionist, but a little overawing went a long way and soon she was striding into the office, making a b-line for the desk Sirius was just settling down at. 

He paled when he saw her, hands stilling on the lapels of the coat he was about to shed. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Come with me.” Alice deflected; he went, and Alice couldn’t help but notice that their progress was being tracked shrewdly by at least one young auror. 

Alice knocked once on Kingsley’s door before entering without invitation, dragging a gulping Sirius in by the forearm. 

Kingsley stood from his desk, a scowl of displeasure morphing into a brief expression of surprise before settling on resignation. 

“Alice Longbottom. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

She smiled briefly.

“I have a tip.” 

“Is it one I would have to arrest you for?” 

“How zealous are you feeling?” 

Kingsley sighed through his nose, gestured to the chairs before him, and sat. 

“Go on, then.” 

So Alice explained, conveniently leaving out the antecedents to her decision to take a turn around Lily’s old town. The many thin-lipped glances Kingsley threw at Sirius made clear that he knew there was more to it. Thankfully, though, he had the sense to focus on the clear and present danger before dealing with any disciplinary issues. 

“To confirm,” Kingsely said when Alice had finished, sounding very tired “You have spoken to a man who elided justice fifteen years ago, who told you that he and a respected potioneer had been working together to investigate the development of a bioweapon, which he believes to be sufficiently volatile to be deployed almost without detection.” 

“Yes.” Alice confirmed. 

“And this man volunteered the information himself?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you have any idea where he may have gone after he left you?” 

“No. He’s apparently a bird animagus, so I didn’t have a chance to follow him.” 

“A bird?” Sirius exclaimed. 

“You’re kidding me.” Kingsley intoned. 

Alice frowned “What am I missing?” 

“That’s sensitive infor-” 

“I was being followed by a bird... What?” Sirius interrupted himself at Kingsley’s glare, shoving a hand into his hair and twisting the locks between his fingers “You’re already  _ this  _ close to sacking me.” 

“We’ll discuss your professionalism later.” Kingsley threatened. 

Then, ironically, he neglected to ask Alice to leave before he carried on.

“Now, Snape seems to be an involved informer. Is there a way we can access him again?” 

“I don’t know,” Alice bit her lip, partly to hide a victorious smile “He seemed perversely proud but also... reluctant, like. I think he was acting under some kind of obligation to Lily more than personal desire, so he’s unlikely to seek us out. But, he did essentially admit that he was under house arrest, so he must  _ have  _ a fixed abode, and someone in a position to pull strings knows where it is.”

“Dumbledore.” Sirius declared. 

“Most likely.” 

Kingsley nodded pensively. For a moment or two he sat in thought, gaze flicking to Alice and Sirius in turn. 

“I think it’s within my remit to consult the Head of the Wizengamot on legal procedures before my time.” he finally announced; Alice’s shoulders loosened slightly “You’re dismissed.” 

Alice nodded in thanks. For a moment, it was just like the old days. 

****

In years gone by, Harry had always thought that Dumbledore’s office radiated a sense of erudite calm. That evening, it seemed more like a disordered court, full of bodies and echoing with mutterings of distaste and dissent. Apparently when Dumbledore had requested a  _ conversation _ in his office what he really meant was a tribunal. Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, and Umbridge were all crowded behind Dumbledore’s desk, in addition to Hagrid and Filch. Even the latter’s cat, Mrs. Norris, was curled up on the desk, Umbridge stroking her head like a Bond villain lying in wait. Harry gritted his teeth at the sight and forced himself not to glower- there was no turning back now. 

“Of course.” McGonagall sighed when she saw them, eyeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione with a pinched look over the bridge of her glasses. 

Ron shrugged. 

“Hm!” Umbridge scoffed, turning her entire body pointedly in Dumbledore’s direction. 

The old man straightened in his high-backed chair. 

“Very well. Am I to assume, then, that you three are responsible for the appearance of the posters in the hallways last night.” 

“Yes.” they intoned. 

“Well,” Dumbledore nodded, looking utterly unsurprised “That presents us with a very neat narrative indeed. But, for the sake of an old man’s curiosity, and for the benefit of my colleagues here, whom Professor Umbridge has creatively suggested should be present, the question I pose to you, Miss Granger, and Misters Weasley and Potter, is: why?” 

Harry and Ron shared a loaded look, but before they could put their feet in it Hermione cleared her throat and spoke as calmly and confidently as if she’d learnt the words by heart. Knowing her, she probably had. 

“The way you responded when I was victimised by a hate crime was inadequate. Instead of putting in effort to locate and punish the culprit, you deputised that responsibility and let the incident slide without making it clear to the school that what happened  _ was  _ a hate crime, and that it was motivated by a very dangerous and exclusionary ideology. I don’t feel unsafe, because I know a lot about defensive magic and I have good friends. But imagine what someone who doesn’t have those advantages might feel, seeing a hate crime targeting them for something completely beyond their control being passed off as a harmless prank. We decided that if you weren’t going to show, definitively and unequivocally, that blood purism wouldn’t be accepted in this school, we were.” 

A loaded silence followed. McGonagall's eyebrow quirked, impressed, and Flitwick was frowning in consideration. But it was Umbridge's reaction that was most notable, piercing the quiet with a shrill "Well I  _ never _ !"

Harry winced.

“What a speech that was," Umbridge continued, bustling out from behind the desk to stand nearly toe-to-toe with Hermione; Harry got the odd impression she was squaring up "You’re muggleborn, I take it?” 

" _ Dolores!"  _ Sprout hissed, evidently flabbergasted. Clearly she didn't spend much time with the school's least favourite teacher- Harry was disgusted, but not surprised.

Hermione ignored the furore around her and met Umbridge's gaze unblinkingly. 

"Yes, I am." 

Umbridge nodded thoughtfully, gums stretched in a leering, simpering grimace. Lipstick had smudged onto her teeth like blood from a bleeding gum.

Ron shifted; Umbridge's hawk-like gaze pinned him in place. With clear intent, Ron drew himself up to his full lanky height. 

"And you,  _ Mister  _ Weasley. What do you have to say for your involvement?" 

Ron narrowed his eyes and jerked his head at Hermione. 

"What she said." 

"'What she said'?" 

Dumbledore rose with the scraping of chair legs. 

"Professor Umbridge-" 

She spun pertly and fixed him with a painfully false smile "Headmaster, one moment please." 

"Really, Dolores-" 

"Just  _ one _ moment, Headmaster." 

Slowly, to the evident surprise of more than one of them, Dumbledore sunk back into his chair. 

"Good. Now," Umbridge's head jerked to the side, curls dancing; she pointed at Harry with her wand, orange sparks spurting from the tip "y _ ou _ ." 

Harry startled, stepping instinctively back. Umbridge followed, steps measured. 

"I needn't ask why  _ you  _ would be involved." 

"Oh," Harry cocked an eyebrow "needn't you?" 

When Umbridge responded, it was with a voice laden by the most personal disdain Harry had ever garnered from a teacher- and possibly from anyone over the age of sixteen, excepting his once-in-a-blue-moon interactions with Uncle Vernon. 

“You’ve been nothing but an attention-seeking troublemaker from the start. I shan’t blame you entirely, of course, given your... home environment, but it’s time you learnt that the world does not revolve around you.” 

Harry’s knuckles tightened into fists in the folds of his robes, a hot, acidic mix of embarrassment and anger surging through him. 

“What, exactly, have I ever done to you? And what the  _ hell _ are you going on about my home life for?” 

A vein pulsed in Umbridge’s neck; her knuckles were white around her wand. 

Harry was very aware of its tip inches from his chest. 

“See me for detention at 7pm on Friday.” Umbridge chirped, lip curled.

“Why?” he demanded. 

“For insubordination,” Umbridge bit, voice pushing the limits of audible pitch “Of a most flagrant manner.” 

“But  _ you _ -” 

Quick as a flash, Umbridge’s arm shot out and she grabbed him by the ear, twisting sharply. 

“Agh!”

“One more word, Potter, and I’ll -” 

“Dolores!” McGonagall barked, approaching very quickly in a flurry of tartan “We do  _ not  _ touch the students!” 

Harry didn’t see her expression, but it must have been impressive. Umbridge let him go with a jerk.

Having regained control of his own head placement, Harry looked up. Dumbledore was grave, Filch gleeful, the other teachers shocked; Hagrid mirrored Hermione with a hand to his mouth, while Ron was glaring at Umbridge as if he’d dearly like to kick her. 

To add to the drama, at precisely that moment the giant hearth at the back of the room flared green. 


	21. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A baby chapter because these scenes probably should have gone in the last one and also I want to post something this month. (I can't remember if I mentioned but unfortunately updates are going to be slow for a few months because real life insists on existing- on the plus side we're getting there so by the time we get to the conclusion it should be in a time period where I have more free time to write) 
> 
> cw: references to homophobia

Kingsley’s wand came up the second he stepped out of the fireplace. 

It was reflex; he’d been expecting one relatively non-threatening old man, possibly drinking cocoa, and instead he was confronted by- yes, his eyes did not deceive him- practically the entire Hogwarts faculty, his co-worker’s godson, and two other students. Silence reigned, even as the room followed Harry’s widening eyes and took notice of Kingsley’s presence. Scanning them in turn, Kingsley stowed his wand and stood at ease. 

“I apologise for the intrusion.” he informed the room, before catching Dumbledore’s gaze “If possible, I need to talk privately with the Headmaster here. Auror business.” 

Clearly, his words had piqued the interest of a few of the professors, who suddenly became very preoccupied with the masonry. That didn’t concern Kingsley. What  _ did  _ smack Kinglsey as the omen of another headache were the looks exchanged between the students. 

_ Note to self: make sure Black really did read the case confidentiality handbook.  _

"Of course!" Dumbledore stood, unfolding himself like a paper doll and gesturing at the door "If you please?" 

The room's other occupants filtered out, students clumping together as soon as they were out of the main doors, Professor McGonagall watching them go with a frown. Interestingly, the professor in pink was also watching them intently- Kingsley was inclined to mistrust the scheming glint in her eyes, and judging by the way Hagrid actually turned his head in order to glare at the woman longer, so did many of the teachers. Filch, on the other hand, seemed concerningly contented, though he spared some disdain for Kingsley. When the door closed and the last of the footsteps had receded, Dumbledore gestured graciously at the chair opposite him. Kingsley took it, feeling a little like Head Boy all over again. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Shacklebolt?” 

Kingsley cut to the chase. 

“I’ve come for information about Severus Snape.” 

If Kingsley wasn’t mistaken, something like surprise flitted across Dumbledore’s features. Whatever it was, it was quickly overtaken by a wry twist of the lips and a glint in his icy blue eyes that could definitely not be described as jolly. 

“Ah. I see.” 

Kingsley inclined his head, waiting. After a tense moment, Dumbledore folded his hands primly, and nodded. 

“Some months ago,” he began, “Lily Evans approached me with a similar aim. Am I correct in assuming that your enquiries are connected?” 

Kingsley quirked an eyebrow. 

“That seems like a reasonable supposition to me.” 

Dumbledore nodded once more, then did something very strange: he picked up a quill and parchment, pursed his lips, cast his eyes around the office, then set them down again. 

“Perhaps,” he suggested “It would be more expedient for me to show you. In fact, it’s rather a long memory- given the late hour, I might even suggest you take it with you. I take it,” Dumbledore added, raising a brow significantly “You’ve used a pensive before?” 

“Yes,” Kingsley responded resignedly “With you, when I was Head Boy, as we investigated Baumont Truffard’s allegations against Mariella Walpole.” 

“Precisely.” 

Dumbledore crossed to an antique cabinet, opened it with a few whispered words, withdrew a crystal phial and beckoned Kingsley over. 

**** 

“Are you okay?” Ron asked, the second they were out of the professors’ earshot, heading down the corridor which led to the school proper. 

“Totally.” Harry replied, despite the fact that his heart was beating a mile a minute and he was still sorely tempted to rip someone’s head off “You guys?” 

Ron’s eyes narrowed. 

“Fine.”

“Same.” Hermione confirmed distractedly, frowning intently at the flagstones as they walked. 

They fell into silence, which gave Harry some much needed time to think. 

He was angry. He was humiliated. He was fully aware of what Umbridge had been insinuating about his home life and he didn’t much like it- both because he was offended on his uncles’ behalf, and because he was scared that some of the teachers may have agreed with it. There was no doubt some students did; the first week back he’d caught a couple of strangers gossiping about what a  _ shame  _ it was he had to live with a pedo and a pervert, and if it wasn’t for the tide of students sweeping him past he would’ve done his best to lay them flat there and then. Afterwards, events had overtaken his anger but he felt it making a minor resurgence then; albeit a resurgence very quickly eclipsed by a general sense of guilt over dragging them into the spotlight in the first place. Not that he wasn’t incredibly grateful for them taking him in. But even that was tinged with guilt; it felt like he was substituting them for his mum, for his dad even. And causing them ten times more trouble than he ever caused his parents, to boot. 

“Oh, Harry!” 

Suddenly, he was breathing in a mouthful of Hermione’s hair.

He patted her on the back. 

“Um?” 

“Sorry!” Hermione flushed, withdrawing “You just looked so  _ sad. _ ” 

“Oh.” he smiled shakily “Thank you.” 

She smiled briefly in acknowledgement, then continued to walk, tapping her fingers on her leg as she did so. Harry and Ron followed after. Soon, Hermione stopped again and declared: “What you need is closure-” 

Harry disagreed. What he  _ needed  _ was to get back to his usual, fairly self-sufficient self and preferably acquire a time-turner of epic capacity. 

“-And your detention could be just the thing.” 

Harry sighed imperceptibly, which was a fine skill to have if he did say so himself. 

“How?” 

“It might help you work out what Umbridge was doing with that man you heard her with! Don’t you think it will make you feel better to solve at least one mystery?” 

“Might do.” Harry conceded, though right then he didn’t have a lot of faith in his ability to feel anything but a pervasive sense of  _ bad  _ and  _ tired _ .

Hermione frowned at him, Ron frowned back, and all of a sudden Harry was pissed at them, infuriated at himself, mad at his mum for dying and his uncles for caring about him, and sick of the whole bloody world. 

Without thinking, he ripped his glasses from his face, hurled them at the nearest wall and stormed off as quickly as he could without running, heedless of his friend’s vocal concern and the mocking rapport of his footsteps on the flagstones. 


End file.
